


Rites of Passage

by EldritchMage



Series: Young Fíli and Kíli [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Awesome Dwalin, Brotherly Bonding, Coming of Age, Dwalin & Thorin Oakenshield Friendship, Dwalin Is A Softie, Dwalin as Dwarvish arms master, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarvish clans, Fatherly Thorin, Fili and Kili, Fili and Kili go on a big adventure, Fili is a great big brother, Fili&Kili - Freeform, Gen, Hunting-based culture so vegetarians beware, Implied Dwalin/Derfrulia, Kili & Fili - Freeform, Kili gets bullied, Kili is a starry-eyed kid, Kili&Fili - Freeform, Lots of Dwarvish cooking and eating, Middle Earth, Middle Earth Steppes, Motherly Dis, Nothing gets past Dis especially Thorin Fili and Kili, Original Dwarvish culture (steppe horse clans), Teen Angst, Worldbuilding, attempted suicide, bullying is not the bullied person's fault, fili & kili - Freeform, no one deserves to be bullied
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 14:43:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 64
Words: 313,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4750166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldritchMage/pseuds/EldritchMage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hi, all. Here's a story of FÍli and Kíli as youngsters.</p><p>Kíli's unusual looks - too tall, weird hair, spindly body, and almost no beard - don't bother Fíli, nor do his atypical talents - unerring bowman, skilled animal handler, and quiet, thoughtful nature. They bother a right lot of bullies, though, who have progressed from taunts and shoves to outright beatings. Even Kíli's mastery of Master Dwalin's extra fighting lessons haven't helped - now the bullies gang up on Kíli to do even more damage. Today, Fíli's eagerness to try out his new sword leaves Kíli unprotected for a few seconds, just long enough for a trio of roughnecks to kick Kíli halfway to oblivion.</p><p>If broken ribs, a concussion, and a gashed cheekbone aren't painful enough, Kíli's shame is even more devastating. Nothing Kíli has done has helped him to overcome his harassment. It makes Fíli sick to see such despair in his brother's normally bright eyes, and he vows to put a stop to his brother's abuse, no matter what he has to do.</p><p>The question is, what should he do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cast of Characters

**Thorin’s Halls**

Balin – Dwalin’s brother, Oin and Gloin’s first cousin, Thorin’s fourth cousin, scholar

Dís – Thorin’s sister, Fíli and Kíli’s mother, coregent of Clan Durin with Thorin

Dwalin –Balin’s brother, Oin and Gloin’s first cousin, Thorin’s fourth cousin, armsmaster

Esmal, Fryn – maids

Fíli – Thorin’s oldest nephew and first heir, Dís’s son

Flin, Flor, Glimbel - bullies

Gloin –Oin’s brother, Balin and Dwalin’s first cousin, Thorin’s fourth cousin, merchant

Kíli – Thorin’s youngest nephew and second heir, Dís’s son

Oin – Gloin’s brother, Balin and Dwalin’s first cousin, Thorin’s fourth cousin, apothecary

Thorin Oakenshield – Durin patriarch, Dís’s brother, Fíli and Kíli’s uncle, blacksmith

 

**Clan Urghul**

Ankulaz (“Fear the Dark”) – Urghul heir, Tobazel’s son

Drengi (“Slayer”) – Urghul herder

Grimm (“Wolf”) – Urghul herder

Grun (full name Naggrundaz, “Ruinous”) – Ankulaz’s retainer

Kazunki (“Knight”) – cousin of Ankulaz, Tobazel’s nephew

Kulkro (“Black Crow”) – Urghul lad

Neyrinn (“White Queen”) – Ankulaz’s mother

Numolomar (“Sharp Weapon”) – Urghul herder

Taalmaak (“Fire Son”) – Urghul bairn

Tobazel (“War Cry”) – Urghul patriarch, Ankulaz’s father, Kazunki’s uncle

Uzkul (“Death”) – Urghul herder

Vazra (full name Vazraevenen, “Face of Evening”) – Urghul dam

Wyrskaud (“Loud Snow”) – Urghul lad 

 

**Clan Regha**

Arberch ("Gold Daughter”) – Clan Regha dam, Grun's mother

Silfberch (“Silver Daughter”) – Clan Regha dam, Klyn's mother

 

**Clan Fentril**

Maagratan ("Magic Dancer") -  rode his horse to victory in last fall's festival

 

**Clan Kahgli**

Cyth – retired Kahgli matriarch

Derfrulia (“Horse Maid”) – Cyth’s younger daughter and current Kahgli matriarch on the grass

Drukat Skilami ("Home Master") - Cyth's older daughter and master of Kahgli's mountain village, Drukat Kurz De Marr

 

**_Derfrulia’s Children_ **

Ferrin (“Truth”) – Derfrulia’s eldest son, master herder

Helglor (“Bright Glory”) – Derfrulia’s daughter, Yanna’s mother (deceased)

Mulgrum (“True Steel”) – Derfrulia’s second son, master hunter

Merruli (“True Friend”) – Derfrulia’s third son, master of ponies and horses

 

**_Derfrulia’s Immediate Family_ **

Azril (“Gem”) – Ilka’s brother, senior hunter

Barkhuzi (“Red Warrior,” nickname Khuzi) – Ilka and Merruli's son, Klyn’s mate

Ilka – Merruli’s wife, sister to Jiri and Azril

Issi – Ilka and Merruli’s toddler daughter

Jiri – Ilka’s brother, master hunter

Klyn (“Spirit”) – adopted into Kahgli, Barkhuzi’s mate

Yanna (short for Yelnayshath, “White Cloud Calls”) – Derfrulia’s granddaughter and heir

  

**_Other Kahgli Dwarves_ **

Arkhanneh – hunter, Kíli’s mentor

Bravazuli (“Master of Bravery”) – hunter

Dok (“Eye”) – herder

Drekkani (“Scout”) – hunter, Fíli’s mentor

Drogal – hunter

Grummar (“Steel Weapon”) – Kahgli villager 

Hellglorak (“Bright Glory”) – young mother

Kheluz (“Strong”) – herder, Ankulaz’s mentor

Khel (“Strong”) – hunter and medic’s aide

Kupferrot (“Ginger-colored”) – herder, Grun’s mentor

Jerun – hunter

Maaggulmuli ("Magic Master Healer") - medic

Maltudd (“True Tooth”) – hunter

Maraz (“Splitter”) – retired herder; tends to Kahgli’s camp chores

Numolkhuzi (“Sharp Warrior”) – hunter

Shath (“Cloud”) – herder

Simka – hunter

Wyrtaal  ("Snowfire") – young maid

Vaentanz (“Beautiful Dancer”) – young mother

Vikken – master of wolfhounds

 

**Clan Kahgli Wolfhounds**

Alabrin (full name Kulalabrin, “Black Swiftness”) – holds to Kíli

Ariberch (“Red Daughter”)

Arvazr (“Gold Face”) - a young dog that likes to trail Kíli

Azrilmaag (“Silver Magic”)

Doktanz (“Dancing Eye)

Doksturm (“Eye of the Storm”) – a young dog that likes to trail Kíli

Ezkulazar (“Darkest Gold”) – holds to Drekkani

Grimmdrengi (“Wolf Slayer”) – a young dog that likes to trail Kíli

Hellvaen (“Bright Beauty”) – holds to Jiri

Issigit (Snowflake”) – held to Cyth (deceased)

Kulazhath (“Dark Cloud”) – holds to Klyn

Makkwyr (“Snow’s Son”) – a young dog that likes to trail Kíli

Mhornar (full name Mhornarklyn, “Shadow Spirit”) – holds to Kíli

Neyshath (“White Cloud”) – holds to Barkhuzi

Rinnala (“Queen Nala”) – holds to Fíli

Rukhsit ("Goblin”) – a young dog that likes to trail Kíli

Shathtosti (“Cloud Thief”)

Silfaevenen (“Silver Eve”)

Taalenag (“To Be On Fire”)

Taalmakk (“Fire’s Son”)

Tangitt (full name Tanngit den Torak, “Soul’s Arrow”) – holds to Hassen

Tobaztanz (“Wild Dance”)

Vazraeven (“Face of Evening”) – a young dog that likes to trail Kíli

 

**Other Animals**

Braungaraz (“Fearless Brown”) – herding dog, holds to Kheluz

Drunskaud (“Loud Thunder”) – horse stallion

Kulomar (“Black Weapon”) – yearling horse

Lathga – horse stallion

Lissa, Grimbel, Ellip, Faaldi, Ginna, Hikkon – clan ponies

Orrud (“Red Cloud”) – yearling horse

Shar – Yanna’s spotted pony

Targi – pony stallion, Shar’s sire

  

**Clans**

Dashk – herding dog breeders, totem animal herding dog

Distin – saddle makers, totem animal steppe yak

Durin – king’s clan, totem animal raven

Fentril – horse breeders, totem animal horse

Kahgli – pony breeders, totem animal pony

Regha – wolfhound breeders, totem animal wolfhound

Urghul – herders, totem animal fire horse

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> doh kro = bird brain (Khazuduhl)

The day started off with so much excitement. I was up early, dressed, and through breakfast long before Maamr was up. Even the sun wasn’t up, and the moon hadn’t set yet, its pale light gleaming on the ice and snow to make it look even colder than it was, which was plenty cold. Still, it was all I could do not to run out into the cold and down the lane for the half-mile it’d take me to reach the armory.

Inside was something I’d eagerly awaited for weeks. The sweetest sword that might exist was finally ready. Today, I’d take it in my hand and swing it for the first time. I had nearly driven myself and everyone else crazy waiting for the moment when I’d take up the beautiful Dwarvish longsword that had been designed just for me.

“Kíli!” I shouted from the kitchen, cramming the last bite of ham bun into my mouth, slinging my breakfast plate into the washbasin, splashing it furiously until most of the crumbs washed off, and cramming it into the drying rack. “Kíl! Come on!”

Maamr shuffled into the kitchen to glare at me. “Fíli, it’s not even seven o’clock yet, and too early for you to be banging around the kitchen and yelling at your brother. And _wash_ that plate; don’t just wave it in the water and hope all the crumbs swim off! I mean it – take that plate and wash it like you mean it!”

“Oh, Maamr,” I protested, grabbing the plate and scrubbing at it with my fingers. “There! Look, it’s clean. I have to get to the armory!”

“Use the cloth, not your fingers, dry it, and put it where it belongs,” Maamr ordered, pulling her robe closer around her. She shivered. “Did you stir up the fire?”

I swiped the clean plate with a towel, shoved it into the cupboard, and grabbed a pair of split logs to cram into the stove. “There. Plate washed, dried, and put away, and fire stoked. All right? I have to get to the armory!”

“That sword can wait a few more moments, and you know it, Fíli. Kíli’s not up yet.”

“I know it, the doh kro,” I muttered. “Kíli! Come ON!”

“Stop yelling!” Maamr snapped.

I rolled my eyes, but not in sight of my mother. If she caught me doing that, she’d box my ears until they rang. I ducked around her, pressing a quick peck on her cheek before I dashed through the house to Kíli’s room. I burst in, yanked back the bed curtains, and snorted when I found my brother still in his blankets, a pillow over his head. I yanked the pillow way and shook my brother until the bed rocked.

“Come on, Kíl! Get up! You know my sword’s ready today. I want to get to the armory early. Come on, you stupid doh kro! Get up!”

“It’s too early,” my brother groaned, burying his head in another pillow and groping for the blankets to pull them back over him.

I yanked the blankets out of his hands and off the bed. “No, it’s not! It’s after seven. Come on, brother. You know how important today is.”

“She’s a sword,” Kíli growled, turning away from me and groping for the quilt. "She’ll be there no matter what time you get there. Let me sleep!”

Kíli had a bad habit of sleeping bare, claiming it took too long to put on a nightshirt at night only to take it off again in the morn. I smacked his bare buttock, drawing a yelp from him.

“Get up, you maggot,” I growled back.

He muttered something under his breath that would have made Maamr sentence him to cleaning the necessary for a month straight if she’d heard it. It was Orcish Black Speech, which was bad enough; it was obscene, which was worse. Master Dwalin might be proud of my brother’s quick study of the language, but Maamr had a different opinion.

“Please, Kíl,” I pleaded softly. “This is important.”

Groaning, Kíli floundered to a sitting position in the middle of his bed, looking like a stringy, bedraggled wolfhound as he focused big brown eyes on me. He was eighteen, only five years younger than I was, but he looked younger with his spindly, overlong arms and legs, weird black hair hanging halfway down his back, razor sharp chin and cheekbones, and no beard beyond a dirty shadow on his cheeks. He was six inches too tall for a Dwarf, with no meat on his bones to speak of, too. Maamr would have spent a lot of time worrying about how thin he was, but given that he ate everything within sight all day and all night, instead she worried about how to keep food on the table for the rest of us. Just last night, he’d eaten six bowls of beef stew, eight oat buns slathered with enough butter to choke the cow, two bowls of fried apples, and a dozen mugs of milk for supper. Yet this morn, he looked like a starveling with barely enough energy to sit up.

“I know it’s important, Fíl. I’m just... not awake.” He rubbed his eyes blearily. “Give me a second.”

I exhaled impatiently. “One, two, three. There – I gave you three seconds. Come on, Kíl. I need to get down to the armory in the worst way.”

Kíli groped through his blankets, looking for his smalls. They were on the floor, so with a grunt I grabbed them and tossed them at my brother.

With a yawn that threatened to split his head, Kíli fumbled to pull them on. “I’m coming. Hand me my trews.”

“Do the rest yourself. Come on.”

“If you want me to move faster, then hand me my trews.”

They were on the floor, too, so I scooped them up and hurled them at Kíli, thwacking him in the head. “If I don’t see you in the kitchen in thirty seconds, I’ll come back and drag you out.”

My threat earned me another guttural Orcish epithet, which made me snicker. I headed back to the kitchen, where Maamr was sleepily frying herself an egg.

“Is Kíli up?”

“Two seconds ago, yes. Now, probably not. Kíli!” I yelled, earning me an exasperated snort from my mother. “Get up!”

Kíli shambled into the kitchen, looking like a walking scarecrow with his rumpled hair and clothes. His tunic sleeves were too short, so he fumbled to roll them up to his elbows as he bent to kiss Maamr’s cheek. “G’morn, Maamr.”

“Good morn, Kíli,” Maamr returned, looking at my brother with veiled resignation. “Eggs?”

“We don’t have time for eggs,” I protested. “Give him a bowl of porridge, or seven or eight. We have to go!”

“Stand down,” Maamr ordered, waving her spatula at me. “You had breakfast; Kíli needs breakfast. That sword isn’t a racing horse spoiling for the running, Fíli. She’ll be ready for you whenever you get to it. Now let your brother eat.”

Kíli had already dished a bowl of porridge for himself and sat at the table to mix sugar, dried fruit, and milk into it. He worked his way through it steadily. I marveled at how he managed to move so slowly while still engulfing the entire bowl of porridge in seconds. A second one followed just as quickly, then six scrambled eggs, four ham and cheese buns, two leftover chicken legs, a handful of walnuts, two apples, and enough tea to wash the lot down. He sighed sleepily.

“Can we go now?” I pressed.

He gave me a long-suffering look. “I’m still not awake yet.”

“You managed to eat most of the food in the house, doh kro. Shake the crumbs out of your head so we can go.”

Kíli climbed to his feet with his plate and cup in hand. “I have to wash this, comb my hair, and get my coat. And my boots. Then I’ll be ready.”

“I’ll wash your things, Kíli,” Maamr offered. “Your brother’s been reasonably patient, so fix your hair and go with him.”

“You aren’t going to braid, are you?” I exhaled. “They won’t hold, and we’re just going to spar today, anyway. Just club it and be done.”

Kíli shot me the first resentful look of the morn, which made me wince. He was sensitive about his odd wavy hair that was too silky to hold a Dwarvish plait for more than a few seconds. “Sorry, Kíl. I can wait if you want to braid. I’ll help, if you want.”

“It’s all right,” he said quietly, giving me a small smile that didn’t fool me for a second. “I’ll just pull it back, and be ready to go.”

He disappeared back into his room, giving Maamr the chance to glare at me. “That wasn’t necessary, Fíli.”

I grimaced. “I’m sorry, Maamr.”

“It isn’t me you need to apologize to. It’s Kíli.”

“I did already. I’ll do it again when he comes back.”

“Just because your hair holds braids so easily doesn’t mean you can tease your brother about it.”

“I wasn’t teasing him. I’m just impatient because –”

“Because of your sword. It’ll be just another few moments, Fíli. Be patient for just a little longer.”

“I will,” I conceded.

By the time I put on my coat and stowed my six favorite knives in their various pockets, Kíli reappeared. The front part of his hair was pulled back and fastened at the back of his head, and his boots, coat, and boots were in place. His bow and quiver were at his back, and his expression was more animated. He gave me a happy smile, glad that I’d waited for him, which made me feel even guiltier about my comment about his hair.

“Ready?” I grinned.

He perked up even more at my cheerful greeting, his smile waxing to its widest. “Ready. We’ll see you at luncheon, Maamr. Fíli will tell you all about his new sword.”

Maamr gave us both a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll look forward to it. Now off with you both. Don’t let your excitement push either of you into trouble.”

“Yes, Maamr,” we chorused as we went outside. As soon as the door shut behind us, we gave each other a look and snickered. Today’s excitement wouldn’t push either of us into trouble any more than usual. Trouble was an old friend that came looking for us every day of the week, regardless of circumstances.

“Sorry about the hair,” I murmured as we set out down the lane.

Kíli shrugged and smiled. “You want to see your sword. I understand.”

I clapped my brother on the back. “Thanks, Kíl. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know. You’re a good brother, even if you are a doh kro.”

Kíli was lagging about half a pace behind me. I looked back, concerned at how carefully he moved. “You’re achy this morn.”

Kíli hummed noncommittally. It wasn’t unusual for him to move gingerly in the morn; he was still growing at a pace that was hard to manage. That’s what drove his appetite like a whip. It made his joints ache, too, which made it hard for him to sleep, which was why he had such a hard time waking up most morns.

“Valar, Kíl,” I said lightly. “If you grow any taller, you’ll be a fucking giant.”

He grinned. “Don’t wish that on Maamr. She’s already tearing her hair out about how much I eat.”

“You know Maamr. Always adamant about something.”

Kíli snickered. “Don’t complain. If she and Uncle Thorin didn’t have each other to spar with, they’d round on us instead, and then we’d be in a right lot of the wrong kind of trouble.”

“Truth.”

I looked back at Kíli, who was a full stride behind me now. He pointed ahead. “Go on, Fíl. Put yourself out of your misery.”

The armory was only a couple hundred yards away, but I stuck by Kíli. “It’ll wait. So will I.”

“No, you won’t,” Kíli snorted. He gave me a little push. “Go on, doh kro. The armory’s right there. What can happen?”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course I am! What kind of Dwarf would I be if I couldn’t walk two hundred yards down a public lane by myself? Go find your bright new sword. I’ll be right behind you.”

I put my hand on Kíli’s wrist in gratitude. “Thank you, brother. I’ll see you in a moment.”

“So you will. Now go on.”

He gave me a genial shove, his eyes bright with laughter at my eagerness. That was one of the things I loved most about my little brother, how selflessly and easily he reveled in my delight, even if the object of my delight didn’t hold the same enthusiasm for him. Blades were the passion in my life, but not Kíli’s. He was a competent warrior with those weapons, but where he excelled was with his bow, better than anyone even at this young age. He had his bow and quiver with him, as well as a couple of knives, so all should be well for the few seconds it’d take him to follow me. I raised a hand in thanks and headed at the armory at a run. At the door, I looked back at him, waving when he raised his hand, then hurried inside.

“Master Dwalin! I’m here!” I heralded. “Master Dwalin!”

“And just what makes ye think I need yer lot of noise this early in the morn to sour my axes?” Dwalin’s surly voice challenged me. The bald, tattooed Dwarf stood alone in the middle of the center practice court, an axe in both hands as he went through his usual early morn ritual. His back was to me, and he looked over his shoulder at me with a glower. He’d been at his ritual for a while, because sweat shone on his bare back and stained the waist of his trews.

I grinned. If Dwalin didn’t bark at me of a morn, then it wasn’t morn. “If you don’t want any more of my lot of noise, then show me what I came so early to see.”

He glowered a moment longer, then a slow smile spread over his face. “Aye, laddie, I know what ye came so early to see. She’s a beauty, she is.”

“So where is she, then?”

Dwalin pointed one of his axes towards the table in the back of the armory. A long, wrapped bundle lay there. I wouldn’t pretend calmness I didn’t feel, and so ran across the practice grounds to take up the bundle eagerly. I fumbled the soft leather wraps off, and caught my breath when the sword in its tough leather scabbard was revealed. With reverent fingers, I drew the blade and held it up to shine in the dawning light.

“She _is_ a beauty,” I breathed, angling the sword to see the rising sun glimmer up and down its length. Perfectly balanced, easy in the hand even without a glove, with the crest of the House of Durin and my personal mark in runes on the pommel... I was in love.

“Good to see that a scamp without respect for his elders is properly respectful of his blade.” Dwalin came up behind me to put his hand on my shoulder.

“A blade is worthy of respect,” I grinned. “But a surly arms master...”

He cuffed my ear, but lightly. “’T is a good thing ye respect yer blades, ye young scamp, for that’s all that keeps ye in the good graces of yer surly arms master.”

I chuckled. “You’ve found me out.”

“So are ye ready to try her?”

“You know I am. I ran down here just so I could have as much time before practice as I could. Kíli’s right behind me, so as soon as he comes in, I’ll have at.”

Dwalin came with me to the armory door so we could greet Kíli, but he wasn’t in sight yet. I frowned. “That doh kro. He’s dragging his feet this morn, he is. I’ll go hurry him along.” I glanced at my teacher and handed him my new sword. “I know you want to try her as much as I do. I’ll be back with Kíli in a moment.”

Dwalin took my sword, but his gaze was indulgent. “The honor of the first blow goes to the bearer, Fíli. I’ll try her in good time.”

“I thank you, Master Dwalin. Won’t be a moment.”

I retraced my steps up the lane, expecting to find Kíli studying the sunrise or the footprints of fox in the snow. Instead, I found my brother in the middle of three attackers, all of them throwing insults as well as punches. Not again! With grim regularity, Kíli’s unusual looks and quiet nature drew bullies who thought it was funny to call him the son of an Elf and our mother a traitor to her race, punching and shoving along the way. Kíli wasn’t as frail as he looked, though, and Dwalin had given him extra training to help him protect himself, so despite the odds, he held his own. Then one of them kicked his knee, and he slid on the icy path, going down into the snow. I figured that would be the end of it, but I was badly mistaken. The three closed around him and set to kicking with such violence that I sprinted for them.

“Oi! You lot of fucking maggots back right off, or I’ll have your balls! Leave him alone!”

The three no more paid any attention to me than they would the screams of a crow. When I saw the gleam of a knife, I sprinted faster, plowing into the melee with a vengeance. Dwalin had taught me what he’d taught Kíli, too, because of how often I had to do just what I was doing now – drive the vultures away. I sent one sprawling into the snow, and blackened the second one’s eyes before he backed off. The third one rallied the first to rush me, but I grabbed both of them, banged their heads together with an audible crack, and shoved them after the second. They fell sprawling into a heap, and I gave them a rasher of their own punishment, wading in with my boots right, left, and center.

When they ran off with curses, I stumbled to my knees beside Kíli. He was limp and unmoving. His cheekbone was cut and bruised where one of them had kicked him, and the wound bled freely. I brushed his hair back to see how bad the wound was –

They’d hacked off his hair. That’s what the knife had been for – the bastards had hacked off his hair at his shoulders, as if he were a criminal.

I cursed under my breath, but I was concerned about more than Kíli’s missing hair, for he still didn’t move. When I rolled him over onto his back, though, then he stirred. His eyes fluttered, unseeing, and he started to cough, a sodden, liquid sound – his ribs were broken. Blood flecked his lips, and he curled in on himself.

Oh, Valar, Valar, Valar, my little brother was badly hurt, and all because I hadn’t been there to watch his back the way I usually did, all because of wanting five minutes more with a piece of steel that wasn’t worth my brother’s life –

I got Kíli in my arms, and carried him towards the armory, shouting for Dwalin. The arms master ran out, and came to help me carry Kíli inside.

“ _Comys thoyn_ , lad! What happened?”

“Fucking Flor and Flin jumped him. A third was with them. Glimbel, I think. They damned near kicked him to death. I think his ribs are broken and he’s bleeding inside.”

Whatever Dwalin said, he hadn’t taught us yet, but I caught the fury and concern in the tone, if not the meaning of the words. “Put him on the table, then run and fetch Oin quick as ye can.”

“Aye,” I gulped, as we got Kíli to the table where a moment ago my new sword had rested. I unbuckled his quiver and bow – the bow was intact, but the fletching on most of the arrows that Kili had worked so hard on was badly broken, and so were two of the shafts – and together we got his coat off. Dwalin got Kíli’s tunic open, exposing his ribs where huge bruises had begun to bloom. As thin as he was, the combination of starkly prominent ribs and blackening bruises looked worse than I hoped it was. When Kíli coughed again with that same congested hack, though, my throat closed. Dwalin pried my brother’s jaws open to stick a finger inside.

“He’s bitten his tongue. I think that’s where most of the bleeding’s coming from. Go on, laddie. Fetch Oin so we can see to yer brother.”

“Aye, sir,” I replied, as Dwalin grabbed a cuirass from one of the racks to prop under Kíli’s head. That would keep him from choking. I didn’t wait to see more as I tore out of the armory and farther down the lane. In a few moments, I was pounding on a cottage door hard enough to wake the dead. Oin was nearly as deaf as a rock, and it was never easy to wake him.

“Master Oin!” I shouted, pounding again. “Master Oin! This is important! Please open the door!”

The door was yanked open, and there stood Oin’s brother, Gloin, bristling. He had his robe on over his nightshirt, and his feet were half thrust into his slippers.

“Fíli! Valar, lad! It’s early even for you to get into mischief. Where’s that brother of yours? Into the same trouble?”

“Kíli’s been hurt. I need Master Oin as soon as he can come.”

Gloin’s face changed immediately. “What? Oh, of course. I’ll get Oin right away. Was Kíli...”

I nodded. “Three of them, this time. His ribs are broken, and he got kicked in the head. And the bastards cut off his hair.”

Gloin’s exclamation was no cleaner than anything Dwalin would have conjured. “Ach, poor laddie! I’ll get Oin.”

I stood in the hall while Gloin rousted his brother. I winced at how loudly Gloin had to explain the crisis to Oin, for a lot of the neighbors probably heard the tale of Kíli’s latest run-in with the wretches who delighted in tormenting him. But Oin was an experienced apothecary, and he had his clothes and boots on and his bag in hand faster than I’d expected. We ran back up the lane with Gloin not far behind us. Perhaps a quarter of an hour had passed by the time we got back to the armory.

Kíli was groggily awake by then, which reassured me. I needed that reassurance. Dwalin had stripped my skinny brother of his tunic, and between the growing bruises, his cut cheek, the splatters of blood, and his poor ragged hair soaked in snow and blood, he looked awful. I went to him, grabbing his hand.

“I’ve got Master Oin, Kíli,” I said. “You’re going to be all right.”

He nodded faintly, wincing as he took too deep a breath, and shivering in the chill air. “Of course I will,” he whispered. “I’ll be fine.”

The lump in my throat didn’t go down when I swallowed, but I squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry, Kíl. I’m sorry I ran ahead.”

Kíli’s lips stretched in a mockery of a smile. “I’m sorry I’m such a useless brother.”

“You’re not, you ugly squirrel. There were three of them. One of them had a knife.”

“He cut off my hair.” He shut his eyes as Oin felt his ribs gently. When Oin found one of the breaks, Kíli spasmed and swallowed a moan.

“Don’t try to be quiet, laddie,” Oin urged my brother. “I have to find the breaks before I can see to them.”

Kíli nodded, and turned his head away from me. He didn’t cry, even though the pain of sorting out and bandaging his wounds was severe. Kíli took it as a point of pride that no beating would ever get a tear out of him. I suspected that wasn’t much comfort to him, given that he would have preferred to not get beaten in the first place. But he was too good of a fighter to be taken down by less than three these days, which meant that he was always outnumbered, and usually much the worse for the wear when all was said and done. As many scraps as he’d been in, though, this one was the worst.

I felt a little better once Oin bandaged Kíli’s ribs. Three were broken, but none of them had pierced his lungs as I’d thought. As Dwalin found, Kíli had bitten his tongue, but not badly, and the bleeding slowed soon after so that he stopped coughing. He’d been kicked twice in the head, not once, and his vision was blurry, so Oin kept him lying down to keep him from getting any dizzier. Before long, Oin let me ease Kíli’s tunic back on, which helped him stop shivering. Then Dwalin picked Kíli up carefully and with Oin and me in tow, we took my brother home.

Maamr didn’t have to ask what happened when I let Dwalin and Oin in the house. She took one look at Kíli limp in Dwalin’s arms, and her lips thinned.

“How badly is he hurt this time?”

“Three broken ribs, two kicks to the head, so a concussion, and a bitten tongue,” Oin supplied.

Maamr didn’t swear, but before she looked at her boots I saw how angry, sad, and worried her expression was. “You know the way to his room, Dwalin. All too well.”

“Aye, Dís, I do,” the arms master growled as he shouldered his way through the house, with me trailing behind. Oin stayed in the kitchen with Maamr, discussing treatment.

 “Boots,” Dwalin said, when we’d reached Kíli’s room. I duly stripped off Kíli’s boots, then his wet trews, and draped his coat over a chair while Dwalin arranged Kíli in his bed with a pillow under his head.

“Are ye awake, Kíli?” Dwalin asked, his voice surprisingly gentle for such a gruff warrior. “Yer brother’s here to help ye stay awake, ye ken? ‘T isn’t good for ye to sleep just yet, not after two clouts to the noggin. Hear me, laddie – don’t ye go to sleep.”

Kíli’s eyes opened. His gaze was so unfocused that he probably saw two of Dwalin, but he blinked several times, forcing himself awake. “I’ll stay awake.”

“See that ye do, laddie.” Dwalin grasped Kíli’s shoulder in comfort, and then moved away. He gave me a concerned look, and went back to the kitchen.

I went to Kíli’s side, pulling the blankets over him and brushing the hair out of his face. The poor ruins of his hair stuck out at all angles, making his already pale skin look even paler. “I’m sorry, Kíli. Valar, I’m so sorry. I should’ve stayed with you."

Kíli snorted, and flicked me a glance before turning his gaze to the wall. “It’s not your fault, Fíli. I said it, didn’t I? Out of my own mouth, I said it. What kind of Dwarf would I be if I couldn’t walk two hundred yards down a public lane by myself? No Dwarf, that’s what kind. No Dwarf at all.”

I swallowed hard at the despair and shame in my brother’s voice.

Something had to be done.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kíli is not doing well after his beating, and Fíli is frantic to find a way to revive his brother's spirits. Will raisin buns do the trick? Or will Fíli have to resort to a little brotherly blackmail?

“Don’t be stupid,” I said softly. “There were three of them. They had a knife. You held your own for a long time. If the ice hadn’t made you slip, you would’ve had them.”

Kíli’s hand strayed over his ribs, touching his bandages gingerly. “The ice was there for them to slip on, too, but they didn’t.”

“You had a lot more to think about than they did.”

“I still got the shit beaten out of me, didn’t I?”

Words died on my tongue. Which ones could refute Kíli’s brutal self-loathing? I gritted my teeth and vowed to find some.

“I’m sorry, Kíli. I was stupid. No blade’s ever going to mean as much to me as you do. I won’t ever do that again.”

Kíli shut his eyes and he swallowed hard. He reached for the blanket, and I hastened to pull it up for him. He shifted a bit, gritting his teeth as his ribs pained him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop it,” he whispered. “You deserve better than an ugly, stupid, useless brother who’s no better than a stone around your neck, an idiot you have to watch every second in case he blunders into trouble. Just... go away. At least I can lie here in bed without you having to worry about me hurting myself.”

“Did you blunder into those three maggots?”

“Go away, Fíli.”

“Did you? Or did they wait until you went by and jump you?”

Silence.

“Did they?”

“I heard them,” Kíli whispered. “I went around. I tried to stay out of the way.”

“But one of them doubled back and cut you off, so the other two could catch up and set about their business.”

Silence again, which meant I’d guessed right.

“I saw Flor and Flin. Was Glimbel the third one?”

Kíli didn’t open his eyes, but he nodded.

I grimaced. The first two had set on Kíli before. They hadn’t been so vicious until Glimbel joined into their taunting.

“We’ll pay them back for every blow, Kíl. I promise.”

Kíli swallowed again. I realized that he was barely holding onto his composure with the last shreds of his strength, so I patted his shoulder.

“You rest. I’ll bring you some tea in a bit, if Master Oin says you can have it. And I’ll chop the wood for you today, though you’ll owe me a big debt for it.”

My weak joke got nothing from Kíli, so I patted his shoulder again and headed back to the kitchen.

Maamr, Oin, and Dwalin were still in the kitchen when I returned. The first two wore worried expressions, but Dwalin simmered with slow, deep anger.

“Is the lad settling?” Oin asked.

I shrugged. “As well as he can, I suppose.” I met Dwalin’s eyes. “Glimbel was the third one, Master Dwalin.”

The arms master growled under his breath. “Right vermin he is, that one. I’ll have a word with the guard again.”

My fists clenched. “What good will that do? It’s – what, the fourth or fifth complaint about them we’ve made, just on Kíli’s behalf? They were waiting for him, Master Dwalin. They had a knife. This time, they took only his hair, which is bad enough, to mark him like a thief or a vandal. What’ll they try next time? If he fights off the three of them, how many more will they recruit to gang up on him? We have to do something more than whining to the guard, before I’m carrying home a corpse!”

I slammed my fist against the doorjamb, so angry was I. The shock of the blow made Maamr jump, though Dwalin’s expression never changed. I couldn’t bear to look at any of them, so I stormed out of the kitchen, into the sitting room to cool down.

“Fíli’s right, Dís,” I heard Dwalin say into the silence. “We have to do more for his brother. He’s a right tough one, but he can’t keep taking beatings like this one.”

Oin grunted agreement, but had nothing more to offer.

“Thorin will be home in a few days,” Dwalin said. “I’ll talk to him.”

“So will I,” Maamr said. “Kíli will be in bed for a day or two to recuperate, so there’s no reason to have Thorin come home before his regular time. But this’ll be the first thing we talk about when he gets here.”

The kitchen door opened, then shut, as Dwalin and Oin headed back to their usual duties, then Maamr followed me into the sitting room. She was still in her robe and house boots; it was a shock to realize that not much time had passed since Kíli and I had set out so lightheartedly.

“What happened?” Maamr asked quietly.

I winced, and hung my head. “It was my fault, Maamr. Completely, entirely my fault. I was so anxious to see my sword, so when we got within sight of the armory, Kíli told me to go ahead. He was achy, and didn’t want to slow me down. He was out of my sight not three minutes, if that. Three stupid minutes, and those bastards nearly killed him –”

Maamr’s hand rested on my arm. “Don’t blame yourself, Fíli.”

“Who else should I blame? Kíli, for being different? He’s smart, a good fighter, the best brother I could have. So what if he looks different? Why does that matter so much?”

Maamr sighed. “Vermin use any reason to be vermin, Fíli. It’s just the way they are.”

“‘The way they are’ almost killed my brother! How is that something we can shrug off?”

“We won’t,” Maamr replied. “Dwalin will knock some heads, and he’ll have Oin’s report on Kíli’s injuries to back him, so that’ll gain us a little time until your uncle comes home. I won’t let him shrug this off, either, Fíli. I’m going to insist we do something more than lodge complaints and knock heads.”

“We’d better,” I graveled. “Those bastards took more than Kíli’s hair. They took his self-respect. He’s in his room blaming himself for what happened.”

Maamr leaned on the table and stared at it as if hoping it had an answer. “That’s nothing new,” was her reluctant admission.

“No, but this time it’s a lot worse.”

Maamr’s jaw tightened. “My poor Kíli.” Then she looked up at me. “My poor Fíli, too. I’m sorry your sword day was ruined.”

“To hell with my sword day! If I hadn’t been so bent on seeing a damned piece of steel, my brother wouldn’t be lying in bed with his ribs strapped and his hair hacked off and his head kicked in, hating himself!”

Maamr’s hands pressed on my arms. “Calm down, Fíli. Kíli survived, and we’ll do something once your uncle’s home. The best thing you can do is calm down, and be there for your brother when he needs you. Because he does need you.”

Guilt swept over me. “That’s just another reason why he feels so humiliated, Maamr. He doesn’t want to need me. He wants to stand on his own feet.”

I glanced at Maamr, and she looked so sad that I mustered a smile for her. “We’ll sort it out, Maamr. Don’t worry.”

She nodded, but her expression was bleak. It matched what I felt inside.

 

* * *

 

I listened to my brother and my mother talk in the kitchen. Knowing they pitied me didn’t make me feel any worse; I already felt as bad as it was possible to feel. I’d ruined Fíli’s sword day; I’d gotten myself beaten to shards; I’d lost my hair, such that it was; and I’d had to be carried home in front of everyone like the weakling I was. I’d lost most of my arrows, too, the ones I had worked so hard to craft until they matched anything a professional could make. The remnants of them lay on my worktable under the window, as broken and bent as I was. All of this had happened because my legs had ached most of the night, and I was too tired to muster a faster gait to keep up with my robust, healthy, handsome, properly Dwarvish brother for a mere two hundred yards. Would it have been so hard for me to jog beside Fili for that little way until we reached the armory? My legs wouldn’t have hurt as much as the rest of me hurt now. Why hadn’t I mustered the spine to do that for Fíli, who was my unfailing champion, staunchest protector, and best friend? It had been his sword day, and I’d ruined it.

If a chasm had opened up beside my bed, I would have crawled into it and wished for it to close over my head, never to open again. But since that wasn’t going to happen, I pulled my blankets over me, curled around a pillow, and shut my eyes. I wanted to die.

 

* * *

 

Kíli stayed in bed for two days. It wasn’t good for him, for Oin said that staying so long in bed might allow pneumonia to settle in his lungs, but my brother was too listless to get up. Maamr tried to tempt him out by refusing to send in a tray at mealtimes, but Kíli’s response was to stop eating. Even when I snuck a few of his favorites into his room after Maamr went to bed, he drank the tea and left the food untouched. He answered my prodding with such a demoralized silence that I didn’t have the heart to keep pestering him. Finally, in desperation, I crept into his room late one night.

“Kíl?”

Silence.

“I know you’re awake, Kíl.”

Silence.

“Please, Kíli. You’re scaring me. Talk to me.”

A sigh. “What about?”

“I’ve got this awful problem.”

Silence.

“My doh kro brother’s willing himself to death, and I don’t know how to stop him. I need him too much to let him do it, but I don’t know how to tell him that so he’ll believe me. I have to find some way to tell him, because if I don’t, he’ll think I don’t love him, or that I’d be better off without him, when really I’d be so lost. I can’t bear the thought of being without him. So tell me what to tell him, Kíli.”

A long silence stretched, but finally, somewhere in the dark a quavering sigh rose and fell. “You _would_ be better off without me.”

“No, I wouldn’t!” I hissed. “Stop being so stupid! You let those maggots tell you you’re worthless, but you won't let me tell you how much I need you! Valar, Kíli, I don’t want to lose you! What can I do to get you to see sense?”

“What do you need me for, Fíli? You’re everything I’m not, and I’ll never be anything you are. The heir of Durin does not need a gangrel brother to make everyone worry about the health of the line, do they?”

“Oh, Valar, Kíli. Don’t mix Erebor into this. Neither of us is ever going to come close to that lost cause, so toss the shit about heirs of the line.”

Yet more silence.

“Please, Kíli. Don’t keep on like this. What can I do to help?”

“I’m tired of depending on your help for everything past breathing, eating, and shitting.”

“You forgot pissing. I’m not about to help you with that.”

“You’re an ass.”

I grinned. “That’s a good sign. You’re swearing at me again. Slide over. I’m coming in.”

A reluctant rustle of skin against sheets came from behind the bed curtains, so I shut the door behind me, and climbed between the bed curtains. Kíli had drawn his legs up to sit at the head of the bed, so I sat cross-legged at the foot. He had on a nightshirt, which wasn’t a good sign. It meant he was cold, without the energy to keep himself warm.

“I brought buns,” I wheedled. “Raisin.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Like hell you aren’t. You haven’t eaten in two days.”

“I’m really not.”

“I can’t eat all of these, and I can’t sneak them back in the kitchen. You’ve got to help me eat them or I’ll get in trouble.”

A long sigh. “Give me one, then.”

I fumbled the plate holding the buns. “Shit. I dropped them. Light the lamp.”

Kíli didn’t try to pretend he didn’t have a lamp. I knew he did, so he could sit up and read when he ached too much to sleep. Sometimes I’d come in and we’d read together in silence, just enjoying the time together. A match sizzled and flared as he scraped it against the rough plaster wall, then settled as he held it to the wick of the small oil lamp he kept cached under the bed. As he put the chimney over the open flame, I dug out the flat rock he kept for the lamp to rest on, and plunked it on the mattress between us. Kili set the lamp on it while I collected the spilled buns. I held one out. He took it, but just held it in his hand. I took a bite of mine, then gave my brother a look. He looked as gaunt as anyone who hadn’t eaten in two days, and I winced at the mess of his hair. The attackers had left one side longer than the other, and it was lank after two days without washing.

“Eat, brother. I’m going to get a lecture for lifting them, anyway, so at least make getting the lecture worthwhile.”

Kíli took a small bite. He had to force it; maybe his stomach was so unused to handling food that he really couldn’t eat. He chewed as if the bun were rancid, and swallowed as if he expected it to reappear, even though Dwarves don’t spew.

“So what are we going to do?” I asked.

“About what?”

“You not eating, first of all. That just makes you easier prey for the bastards.”

Kíli snorted. “What’s the point, Fíli? Eat, don’t eat, I’m still prey for the bastards. I learn everything that Master Dwalin teaches me, until I can handle any ass who tries me. So then the asses come in pairs. I learn some more, and then I can handle pairs of asses. Now the asses come in threes. Next week, they’ll come in fours, and the week after that they’ll come in fives. I can’t hide in the house forever, and I can’t have you watch over me every second of the day, and until I stop growing, I’m not strong enough to go journeying. It’s hopeless. It’s miserable. I hate it. I hate being such a fucking burden. I hated ruining your sword day, too. That was the worst.”

“You didn’t ruin it. I ruined it because I was too impatient, and you got hurt because of it.”

“I got hurt because I’m too much of a waste to take care of myself.”

“Oh, fuck it, Kíli. Can we stop with trying to find someone to blame? You’re not to blame for the bullies, and I’m not to blame for them, either. They just are. But we’re smarter than they are, so we’ve just got to think of a way to outsmart them.”

Kíli shifted carefully; his ribs still hurt.

“There’s no point to thinking about outsmarting them until we figure out what to do about you not eating.”

“I don’t want to eat.”

“Why not?”

“I’m... ashamed at how much I eat, Fíli. I eat so much, a lot more than my share, but even so, it doesn’t do me any good. I’m still a stick.”

“You’re not taking more than your share. You chop most of the wood for Maamr. That takes a lot of effort. If you don’t start eating, you won’t be able to do that, and then I’ll be stuck with it. So I really want you to start eating again. I hate chopping that wood.”

Kíli hummed, maybe conceding my point. “I like it, truth be told. It’s peaceful.”

“So eat so you can go be peaceful again. Please.”

A slight chuckle escaped him. He looked over at me with a tiny smile, and took another nibble of his bun.

“So will you eat from now on?”

His smile faded. “I still don’t know what the point of it is.”

“The point is that if you don’t eat, we can’t do anything about anything else, because you’ll be even more of a scarecrow than you are now.”

He hummed again, conceding another point. “So if I eat, what does that get me?”

“It gets me my brother back, for one thing. For another, it gets you back to recovering from broken ribs and a concussion. Uncle Thorin’s coming home in a day or so, and Master Dwalin and Maamr and I are all going to see that he does something about this. When he does, you’ll want to be healthy again to take advantage of it.”

“What’s he going to do?”

“How in hell do I know? He’s not here. But he’s got to do something.”

Kíli hummed again. “That’s not much to look forward to.”

“It’s better than looking forward to another beating. So eat your raisin buns, and everything else you can get your hands on, or you’ll end up so weak that you’ll be stuck here, with a line of bullies at the door waiting to pound you again.”

When Kíli hummed this time, I snorted. “Valar, Kíl, you sound like a beehive. Cut it out.”

He sniffed. “You’re as pushy as Maamr.”

“Nobody’s that pushy. Now eat your bun before I cram it down your throat.”

Kíli’s took a reluctant bite. “You’re a shitty Maamr.”

I snorted. “Good to hear you say so, arse hole.”

We ate our buns. My throat tightened to see how listlessly Kíli ate, but at least he was eating. When he took the last bite, I held out the plate. He looked at it for a while, long enough that I was about to put the plate down, before he took another.

“How was the sword?” he asked quietly, staring at the bun.

“Haven’t tried her yet.”

His eyes widened as they met mine. This was the most animation they’d held since Kíli had been hurt. “Why not? She wasn’t right?”

“She looks to be a gem.”

“So why...?”

“Why do you think, doh kro? My brother’s hurt. I’m worried about him. I know better than to pick up a sword when I’m that distracted.”

“Fíli, she’s the first sword made for you!”

I nodded. “That she is.”

“So go down to the armory and get her!”

“Not until you go with me.”

He looked away. His eyes shut as if I’d asked him to jump off a cliff – or maybe not to jump off one, as miserable as he felt.

“Don’t try to talk me out of it, Kíl. I’ll go only when you go with me. So eat your damned raisin bun so we can go before next summer.”

“Arse hole.”

I grinned. “I love you, too.”

Slowly, slowly, Kíli took a bite of his second bun. This one seemed to go down a little easier, so I took mine in hand, and we munched slowly through two more buns apiece.

“How’re the ribs?” I asked.

“Achy. Not too bad.”

“Still dizzy?”

He shook his head. His ragged hair fell into his eyes, and he tried to tuck it out of the way behind his ears. Despite the shortened length, my brother still had a lot of hair, and even Dwarvish ears weren’t big enough to hold it out of his eyes. “Valar, it’s bad enough I look like last year’s lopsided haystack. I can’t keep it out of my eyes.”

“I can even it out, if you want. There’s plenty left to make a tail out of it.”

“All right.”

“Where are your fletching snips?”

“Top left corner of the table.”

“Hold the lamp, then.”

I clambered out of bed, took the lamp from Kíli to set it on the table, and gave him my arm to steady him as he eased gingerly out of bed. I pulled out the stool by the table for Kíli to sit on while I found the snips. “Valar, the floor’s like ice! We won’t be long at this. I need your comb.”

I fetched the comb from the shelves at the head of Kíli’s bed, and swiped it through the back of Kíli’s hair. The ruffians had sawed off more than half its length, and without all that weight, the remainder sprang in all directions. It didn’t have the tight, coarse curl of so much Dwarvish hair, like Oin’s and Gloin’s, and while my wheaten hair had something of the same loose wave as Kili's, mine was rougher. Kíli’s waves were deep black, and smooth like Elvish silk, like no other Dwarf’s hair that I’d seen. This oddness hadn’t been as noticeable when Kíli’s hair had been so long, but now, going in every direction, it would be even more prominent. The shortness wouldn’t help, either, because convicted criminals had their hair shorn short to warn folk of their guilt. Of course, bairns had short hair, too, but whether the three who’d attacked Kíli had wanted to mark him as a criminal or a bairn, both were dead insults.

I tried not to think about my icy feet as I considered how to even the mess out while taking as little as possible of what was left. I made a couple of snips, and decided that was enough. It was just barely longer than his shoulders.

“When you pull it back in a tail, now, it’ll be even,” I said lightly, as if that would make Kíli feel any better. “I didn’t have to trim too much.”

“Thanks, Fíli.”

“Welcome. My feet are bloody well frozen, brother. Let’s get back to bed and finish the buns.”

I waited for Kíli to ease carefully back in bed, handed him the lamp, then climbed in after him quickly, tucking my feet under me to hasten their warming.

“Here.” I held out the plate of buns. “We’ve still got four left. Two apiece.”

Kíli gave me a look. “Just go down to the armory yourself, Fíli. Master Dwalin will give your sword to you whether I’m there or not.”

“I won’t take her until you’re there. That’s final. So eat your buns.”

He stared at me hard, but I stared back. Valar, my brother was stubborn! But I was just as stubborn, and after a long few moments, he dropped his eyes, took up a bun, and took a reluctant bite. I didn’t grin at my victory. Kíli didn’t need to see how relieved I was that he’d given in.

He didn’t need to think he’d been the weak one again, either.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when Fíli thinks he's eased Kíli, Uncle Thorin's arrival home undoes everything. No one realizes how far Kíli's shame and despair will push him, until the worst happens. Can Fíli pull him back from the abyss?

I stayed with Kíli until we finished the buns. By then, I was sleepy, and ready for my own bed, and couldn’t suppress my yawns anymore. So Kíli blew out the lamp, and we sat in silence until the lamp was cool enough for him to return it to its cache under his bed. I put the flat rock away, and crawled out of the covers.

“Sleep well, brother,” I murmured, patting his shoulder. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

From the rustle of Kíli’s nightshirt, he’d nodded to me. “Sleep well.”

I clambered out of bed, silently cursing the icy floor again.

“Fíli?”

“What?”

“Thanks for the raisin buns.”

“Welcome. G’night.”

“G’night.”

I pulled the bed curtains closed, eased to the door, and slipped out. I gave a quick look down the hall. All was quiet, so I tiptoed to my room and reached for the latch –

“How’s Kíli?”

“Valar, Maamr!” I hissed, whirling around to see her standing behind me. She was still dressed in her clothes rather than her night shift and robe, so I hadn’t been the only sleepless one in the house tonight. “You just cost me a year’s growth!”

“You and your brother aren’t the only ones who can move quietly when needed.” She folded her arms over her chest. “How is he? Did you get him to eat anything?”

“Maamr!” I protested.

“Don’t, ‘Maamr’ me,” she whispered tartly. “What was it this time? An entire loaf of bread? The last of the walnuts? Anything?”

“Raisin buns,” I confessed.

“Raisin – those were for breakfast, Fíli! How many? All of them?”

“The point is that Kíli ate them,” I hedged, not wanting to admit that he’d eaten only half of them, and I’d eaten the rest. “It’s the first time he’s eaten anything in two days.”

Maamr murmured in reluctant acknowledgement. “Truth. Is he in better spirits?”

“No.”

“Then how did you get him to eat?”

“I’m not proud of how I did it, I admit. I guilted him into it.”

“What did you do?”

I sighed. “I tried to get him to eat on his own account first, but he wouldn’t. So I got him to eat on my account. I told him I wouldn’t go down to the armory to get my sword from Master Dwalin until he came with me.”

Maamr’s sigh was unhappy. “Normally, I wouldn’t condone that. But as you said, he hasn’t eaten a thing since it happened, and he needs to. So for the moment, whatever works is fair play.”

“I don’t like it any more than you do. He’s so downhearted. Uncle Thorin’s got to do something.”

“I know, lad. Dwalin’s already asking around about some things. I expect your uncle back tomorrow, so we’ll come up with something.”

“Maamr? With all respect, please don’t let Uncle Thorin yell at Kíli, or tell him just to get over this. He doesn’t know how hard Kíli works at staying out of trouble. He doesn’t know how good Kíli’s gotten at all the things Master Dwalin’s taught him, which is why the bullies have to gang up to take him on. He’s expert at making arrows now, and there’s not anything he can’t do with his bow. So my brother’s a hard worker, and none of this is his fault, and I won’t let anyone, not even Uncle Thorin, yell at him. That’d send Kíli right into the abyss.”

“I know it would.” Maamr sounded definite. “If your uncle tries to say one cockeyed word, he’ll have me boxing his ears beside you.”

“Good,” I grinned – then my expression vanished into a huge yawn, drawing Maamr’s soft chuckle.

“Off to bed with you. I thank you for cajoling Kíli back to table.”

I kissed her cheek. “Let’s hope I still have, come the morn. G’night.”

I slipped inside my room, crawled into bed, shivering at the cold sheets, and fell asleep before the sheets were warm.

 

* * *

 

Morn came.

I lay still. My ribs ached, my legs and hips ached, my head ached. None of them hurt as much as the little voice whispering in my ears.

_You’re a waste, Kíli. An ugly waste. An ugly, useless waste. How can you even bear to breathe? You take up space, you hold Fíli back, you worry your mother. You can’t do anything right. It would have been better if Glimbel’s knife had sliced a little deeper and put you past all of this. It would be a relief for everyone._

The thought of feeding such a wretch made me sick.

If I didn’t eat, Fíli wouldn’t go to the armory to get the sword he’d worked so hard to get. My brother was fucking stubborn, so no amount of waiting him out would make him relent, not even as much as he loved his blades.

So either I ate, or I hurt him more than I already had.

I never wanted to see food again.

I got up, shivering. It must be colder than usual. I fumbled into a tunic, smalls, trews, thick socks, a heavy sweater. I felt lightheaded, so rested against my worktable for a second or two.

The remains of my best arrows were scattered across it. My throat tightened. It’d taken me days to get the special fletching right on some of them. The only parts that hadn’t been crushed in the snow were on shafts that had snapped, so I’d have to start over to replace most of them. The thought of losing so many hours of painstaking work made my hands shake. My stomach clenched, so I looked away.

I couldn’t even think about eating.

I pushed myself down the hall to the kitchen. Even with all the layers of clothes, I was cold. Maamr looked up to see me come in, surprised. I tried not to flinch. I didn’t want to see her frown at me.

“Kíli! You got up! I’m so glad! What would you like for breakfast? Eggs? Porridge? Griddle cakes with butter and honey?”

I didn’t want anything. “Whatever you’ve made is fine. I don’t need anything special.”

I didn’t deserve anything special, is what I should have said. But I didn’t have the courage. So now I was a fucking coward on top of everything else.

“I’m happy to see you up, Kíli,” Maamr said softly, stroking my hair. “If there’s something special you’d like, I’m glad to make it for you.”

I didn’t deserve that, so I looked at the stove. Yes, the familiar pot was already on. “Porridge is fine.”

Maamr dished up a big bowl, and put the crock of raisins next to the sugar and the milk pitcher. “I made plenty, so there’s more once you’ve finished that. I’ve got sausage rolls and ham buns, too.”

I looked at the huge bowl of porridge. My stomach clenched again, but I added raisins and sugar and milk as I usually did, and forced the first spoonful down. The warmth eased my shivers, so the next bites were a little easier to swallow. Maamr set a mug of tea beside my bowl, and another plate with two ham buns on it. I felt ashamed that she put so much food out for me that I didn’t deserve, but I wanted Fíli to have his sword. I’d already made a big mess out of his sword day, and I didn’t want to make it any worse, so I ate the buns and the porridge, even a second bowl of porridge.

I kept my misery to myself until Maamr put another cup beside my tea. She’d made me chai. As if I were a little one again, she’d made my favorite treat.

My throat closed. My stomach clenched so painfully that I couldn’t get another bite down. My eyes stung, and every muscle in my body knotted. In seconds, tears would leak out of my eyes, and my humiliation would be complete.

“I had the urge for chai this morn,” Maamr said casually, her back to me as she stood at the stove making her usual fried egg. “I thought Fíli would be up by now, so I made extra. Consider yourself lucky. Oin brought by some medicine for your ribs, and it’s bitter, so I thought it might go down easier in something sweet, so you get the extra chai. If it’s not sweet enough, you can put a little more sugar in it.”

I took up the mug hurriedly. Something bitter would give me an excuse to look as miserable as I was. I sipped, expecting a nasty taste, but the bitterness was slight. Gradually, as I managed one sip, then another, then another, the warmth slowly unknotted my muscles, and my throat eased. It was a relief to feel the shame slip away.

Maamr put her plate on the table, and sat next to me. She regarded me with concern, but it didn’t bother me so much now, so I met her eyes sleepily.

“Feel better?” she asked softly.

I nodded slowly.

“Finish your chai, then. The medicine doesn’t do any good in the cup instead of you.”

I sipped a little more. The bitterness was more noticeable now, but the chai was warm, and I decided another ham bun would taste good. Maamr watched me nibble at the bun, smiling when I took the last bite. I drank the last of the chai with a sigh.

“Not too bitter?”

I shook my head. I was more relaxed now, a little like I was floating. It was a nice feeling...

 

* * *

 

I came into the kitchen with a ready good morn for Maamr, but she shot me a look before I crossed the threshold, cautioning me to silence. Kíli sat beside her with his back to me, bundled up in an old sweater as if he were frozen, so I came in quietly, deciding to dish out a bowl of porridge for myself before I came to the table. Maamr gave me a look, cutting her eyes to a small packet on the worktable by the stove. Some sort of medicine, then. I regarded Kíli, who looked up at me with dreamy eyes. Oh and oh, Maamr had given him poppy. She must have put it in his chai.

“Morn, Kíl,” I said casually, bringing my porridge to the table. “Good to see you up. Looks like you feel better.”

His smile was small, shy. “It’s a nice feeling.”

Oh, yes, Kíli had had a dose. Not a lot, but enough to ease the black depression that had gripped him. I smiled back. “I’m glad you feel better. Hey, you had chai, you lucky doh kro. Wish I had.”

He smiled a little wider. “It was good. You were supposed to have it, but Maamr put my medicine in it. I hardly tasted it.”

Maamr must’ve put half a cup of sugar in that chai to cut the flavor of the poppy. I’d had poppy once after I’d gotten sliced in a training exercise, and the bitter gall of the stuff had been more memorable than the burn of the wound.

“Guess I should have gotten up earlier, then.”

“Oin left some other things for you, Kíli. There’s a salve to put on your ribs to help with the bruising. After breakfast, I can put it on, or if you’d rather Fíli do it, he can.”

“I’ll do it,” I volunteered, getting up to refill my porridge bowl. “I’ll help you wash your hair, too.”

Kíli’s face fell a little, despite the poppy. “He cut off my hair.”

“It’ll grow back,” Maamr assured him. “But what’s left could do with a good washing.”

“So could the rest of you, Kíl. You’re rank. Come on, eat up while I have my breakfast, then we’ll both put the washbasin to good use. I need a scrub, too. Here.” I slid my porridge bowl in front of him. “Have some more porridge, and I’ll make us some eggs. You want cheese in yours?”

“Cheese,” Kíli repeated dreamily.

Maamr doctored the porridge the way Kíli liked it, put the spoon in his hand, and he ate it in small bites while I scrambled a panful of eggs with the promised cheese. I dumped half of them on a plate, passed it to Maamr, then put the rest on another one for myself. I returned to the table, found a fork, and dug in.

“Enough cheese?”

Kíli nodded. He ate slowly, but the porridge disappeared and so did the eggs. He looked less dreamy, but calm. Maamr got up to collect the dishes, and by the time I’d had rolls and tea, she’d finished the lot. She put out the washbasin, then slipped out.

“I’m done,” I sighed, patting my stomach. “You?”

Kíli nodded slowly.

“Time for a scrub, then.”

He fumbled out of his clothes well enough, though he shivered a lot and the poppy made him slow. I sat him close to the stove to stay warm while I helped him unwind the bandages from his ribs. He moved like he was sleepwalking as we scrubbed, but he was more or less steady on his feet, and he didn’t splash too much water when he poured it over my head to rinse my hair into the basin. He still shivered, so I got us both dressed in trews and socks before I painted the salve over his ribs. The bruises were awful, but no longer angry purple; they were mostly fading green and yellow now. The salve smelled like comfrey, so I plastered a good amount over Kíli’s ribs before replacing the bandages and guiding his arms into his shirt.

“It’s good to be clean,” I exhaled, and Kíli nodded gently. I combed his wet hair for him, then mine, and guided him into the sitting room to sit before the fire while our hair dried. He was quiet, but I hoped the big breakfast, the calming poppy, a bath, and the comfrey had him in better spirits.

The kitchen door opened. “Dís?”

That was Uncle Thorin. Maamr got up quickly, a smile on her face as she went to greet her brother. I got up, too, and turned to Kíli –

My brother was gone, without sound, without thought. The poppy hadn’t eased Kíli as much as I’d thought.

 

* * *

 

Normally, I didn’t interfere in the affairs of my mother and my uncle. They were coregents of the Blue Mountain Dwarves, the counselors of our folk, and I hadn’t reached my adulthood yet. But Kíli would be the main topic of their conversation soon enough, and that was something I intended to be part of. I came into the kitchen in time to see Uncle Thorin envelop Maamr in an all-encompassing hug.

“Dís! You’re looking well!”

“You, too, brother. How was the circuit this time?”

“Oh, the same ups and downs. The Darkbeards argue with the Ironfoots, and the Hastoors argue with both of them. The mining in the north hills is going well, though, and will bring us a good profit this year.”

“That’ll ease things,” Maamr agreed, grinning at her brother. They looked so much alike, almost twins despite the difference in their ages. Both of them were dark-haired, with striking blue eyes, strong, sturdy bodies, broad shoulders, and big hands. My uncle kept his beard shorn short, given how much time he spent at the forges, and Maamr’s beard was not much shorter than his, if not as thick, which just reinforced their similar appearances. I shared their stocky, barrel-chested build, but I was blond where they were dark. Kíli had much darker hair, paler skin, and a much slenderer build than any of us. His facial bones were finer and more elongated than mine, too, but we still were instantly identifiable as brothers.

“And Fíli!” Uncle Thorin enveloped me in a tight hug, which I gladly returned. He held me at arm’s length to look me up and down. “Well met, lad! Dwalin’s put some muscle on you, I see. Where’s Kíli?”

Maamr and I looked at each other. My uncle caught the undercurrent of tension instantly, and looked back and forth between us.

“What’s wrong? Where’s Kíli?”

“Take off your coat and put your bundle down, Thorin,” Maamr told him. “We need to talk about Kili.”

Thorin frowned, then smiled as if doing so could dismiss his sister’s gravity. “What’s he done, then?”

“Nothing wrong,” I said defensively, but subsided when Maamr shot me a look. Thorin stared at me with a question in his eyes.

“What does that mean?”

Before I could reply, Maamr put her hand on my arm. “You can stay only if you guard your tongue, Fíli. Sit, Thorin. Eggs or porridge?”

Thorin sat, but his expression was tinged with exasperation. “Porridge. Then I would appreciate it if someone would tell me what Kíli has gotten himself into that calls for you to bring it up as soon as I walk through the door.”

“Fíli, quiet,” Maamr told me. “Make tea for your uncle while I explain.”

I kept quiet while Maamr described what had happened four days ago. I was glad to hear that Dwalin had quietly treated Glimbel to a hellacious beating two nights ago, and both Flor and Flin were sporting black eyes. The word had gone out to leave Kíli alone, with dire consequences awaiting for those foolish enough to ignore the arms master, but we’d walked this path before, and it would stay clear for only so long.

“How badly is the lad hurt?” Thorin said lowly, his voice rich with anger.

“The least of it is three broken ribs, a concussion, and more bruises than an apothecary’s office after a tavern brawl,” Maamr replied. “The worst of it is how demoralized Kíli is.”

“Demoralized?” Thorin repeated, confused. “What does that mean?”

“It means he wants to die,” I said lowly, unable to remain silent any longer. “He’s worked so hard, Uncle. He’s mastered everything Master Dwalin’s taught him, but the bullies gang up on him now. This time three of them kicked him nearly to death. They cut his hair off, too, as if he were a thief. And all those arrows he’s worked so hard on? They were as good as anyone’s. They’re all beyond repair. Now he thinks he’s useless, a burden on us. He stopped eating.”

Thorin swore under his breath; whether it was at me, Kíli, or the bullies, I couldn’t tell. He growled, “Where is he?”

I swallowed. “Are you going to yell at him?”

Thorin’s eyebrows went up, not used to me questioning him.

“Because if you are, I won’t let you. You’ll kill him if you blame him for anything, and I won’t let you do that.”

Thorin sat back in his chair to look me up and down. “You won’t, will you?”

I took the cup of tea I’d brewed for him, set it down in front of him with more of a bang than I expected, and looked him straight in the eye. “No. I won’t. Kíli needs our help, not another beating, even if it’s only one with words.”

Thorin’s gaze bored into mine, but I held firm, despite how intimidating my uncle was. At length, his gaze softened, and he smiled faintly. “I’m not going to yell at your brother, lad. I hope he appreciates you standing up for him.”

“Whether he does or not, I’m proud to do it. He deserves it.”

“I want to talk to him. Is he in his room?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “He heard you come in, and he bolted.”

Maamr looked at me sharply. “Even after the poppy?”

Thorin’s gaze skewered my mother. “You dosed him with poppy?”

“Just this morn, and just enough to calm him down. He’s completely at sea, Thorin, and everything hurts right now. The only reason he ate this morn is because Fíli told him he wouldn’t claim his first sword from Dwalin until Kíli goes with him to get it. Even so, he forced every bite down like it hurt. Likely because it did.”

“Valar,” Thorin muttered. “He’s that upset?”

“What did you expect?” I said sharply. “He’s desperate to think he’s worth something more than what the bullies tell him, which is...” I glanced towards Maamr, “I’m sorry, Maamr, but the bullies tell him he’s the bastard son of an Elf, which makes him an abomination, a freak animal that ought to be put down. It doesn’t matter how many heads Master Dwalin cracks; the harassment keeps coming. They beat him senseless, then taunt him that he’s too weak to be a Dwarf, even though it takes no less than three of them to do it now. Now he’s lost his hair, which reminds him of what they did every time he looks in a mirror. He has no place left as a refuge. We need to find some place where the things he does so well are valued more than they are here.”

“What are you suggesting?” Maamr said sharply.

I threw up my hands. “I don’t know what I’m suggesting. I just know Kíli can’t live much longer like this. It’s a sketchy thing now.”

A step behind us crossed the threshold, and there was Kíli, fully dressed, his coat and gloves on, his hood up. My jaw dropped at sight of him. His pinprick pupils were the only sign of the dose of poppy, and he was pale, but he stood straight in the doorway.

“Good morn, Uncle,” he said steadily.

“Good morn, Kíli,” Uncle Thorin replied, cocking his head. “How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you. I promised Fíli I’d go with him down to the armory this morn so he could collect his first sword. I’m ready to go, Fíli.”

What was this? I straightened. “Now?”

Kíli nodded. “The sooner the better.”

Maamr, Uncle Thorin, and I exchanged glances. At my uncle’s slight nod, I straightened. “I’d like that, Kíl. I’ll get my coat.”

I ran for my things quickly, not willing to leave Kíli alone with Maamr and Uncle Thorin for very long. He was up to something, and whatever it was, in his state of mind, I didn’t think I’d like it. So I hastened back in seconds.

“Ready,” I said breathlessly.

Kíli nodded to Maamr and Uncle Thorin, and headed for the kitchen door. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

When Kili went outside, I shot a look at Maamr, and she gestured me after my brother with a single urgent wave, grabbing my arm as I went by.

“Don’t take your eyes off him.”

“I won’t.”

“I’ll come along with you,” Thorin said loudly enough that Kíli heard him. “I want to see your sword, Fíli, and I have some things to see about with Dwalin.”

Maamr pushed me out of the door after my brother, and Thorin got up to arm his way into his coat. I sprinted outside and caught up with Kíli just a few yards down the lane. I pelted up to him, grabbing his arm.

“What’re you doing?” I hissed at him.

Kíli looked at me as we headed towards the armory, wincing as his ribs pulled. “We’re getting your sword, Fíli. You’ve waited a long time for her. I want you to have her.”

“And then what?” I pressed. “Then what, Kíli? What’re you up to?”

“Nothing,” he swallowed, not looking at me. He pulled me along with him, glancing back to see Uncle Thorin coming after us. “I just want you to have your sword. I’ve made you wait too long for her as it is.”

“She’s just a sword, Kíli. She’ll wait until your ribs are healed. I know they hurt you.”

“Come on, we’re almost there.”

He was right; the armory loomed ahead, but the only urgency I felt was to find out what desperate act Kíli was trying to pull off. He drew me into the armory just as Uncle Thorin came up behind us.

“Master Dwalin!” Kíli called. A few warriors looked around at the hail, warming up for the day’s practice, and the arms master himself appeared out of the storage room.

“Kíli!” The bald Dwarf came forward with a genuine grin, not something most people could say they’d seen. “Valar, laddie, ‘tis good to see ye! Ye feel better, then!”

“We’re here to get Fíli’s sword,” Kíli said quietly. “He’s waited a long time for her.”

“Aye, he has,” Dwalin nodded proudly at me. “And Thorin, ‘tis good to see ye, too. I’m eager to speak with ye, soon as can be.”

“And I you,” Thorin said, grasping his old friend’s shoulders. They butted heads as Dwarves do in welcome. “But first, Fíli’s sword.”

“Come on, then,” Dwalin led us back to the worktable. My sword in its leather wrappings lay safely on the shelf above the table, and the arms master handed her down to me with a broad smile. “She’s been pining for ye, laddie. Take her and be welcome.”

I laid the sword on the table, unwrapped her, and drew her for the second time, again marveling at her balance, her shine, her elegance.

“She’s a beauty,” Dwalin said in a tone most Dwarves reserved for maids. But to Dwalin, his blades _were_ his maids, and this one was worthy of his regard.

“She is,” I agreed. “What do you think, Kíli?”

My brother smiled, the happiest expression he’d shown in five days. “She’s perfect. I’m glad for you.”

“Thanks,” I grinned, as happy to see Kíli smile as to get my sword. “Want to try her?”

He shook his head. “Today is your day, Fíli. Go on. Try her out.”

“Get a practice blade, then.”

He shook his head again. “Get Master Dwalin. He’s drooling to try her himself, anyway, so he’ll give you a good match.”

It was a mark of Dwalin’s concern for Kíli that he didn’t cuff my brother for his remark about drooling, but merely took up one of the practice blades and nodded to me. “I’ll give ye a good first match for yon shiny maid. Come on.”

I took off my coat, unsheathed my new sword, and took up my stance, and soon Dwalin and I were feinting back and forth. I came around, seeing Uncle Thorin grinning at me proudly –

Kíli was gone.

I held up my blade at once, halting Dwalin. “Kíli?” I yelled. “Kíli!”

No answer. Thorin whipped around, and Dwalin ran to look out the armory’s main door. Nothing. I dropped my sword on the table and sprinted out the back door. I caught a glimpse of Kíli’s black hood some hundred yards ahead of me, so sprinted harder.

“Kíli!” I shouted. “Kíli, wait for me!”

I tore down the turn in the path, found where my brother had swerved away from it, and plunged after his trail through the snowdrifts. About twenty yards farther on, a cluster of rocks hunkered by the right side of Kili's tracks. I skittered around them –

Kíli was behind them, kneeling in the snow. His knife was in his hand, and he’d removed his offhand glove to bare his wrist. His gaze jerked up to mine. His face was white and stricken.

“No!” I cried, struggling through the snow to grab the knife. “Valar, Kíli! What’re you doing? Are you stark mad?”

“Don’t stop me, Fíli!” Kíli begged, as I tore the knife from his hand and threw it from us. “Just let me put all of us out of our misery!”

I grabbed my brother and held him to my chest. “You can’t do this, you stupid, fucking Dwarf! You’ll kill us both! Valar, brother, Valar! You promised me!”

“I kept my promise,” Kíli graveled. “You’ve got your sword. You don’t need me. I know it. You know it. Everybody knows it. And Uncle Thorin’s going to tell me he knows it, too.”

“Fuck Uncle Thorin! He’s never here to know anything about anything, but I am, and I know how much I need you, brother. I know you hurt so much, and I know I want to help you stop hurting. I can’t if you go slitting your wrist!”

“It wouldn’t have hurt very much,” Kíli whispered. “Maamr put poppy in the chai. I wanted to do it before the poppy wore off. It was easier with the poppy.”

“It was stupid, that’s what it was! Valar, Kíli! Promise me that you won’t ever try something so hare-brained again. Promise me!”

“No.”

The pain, the desperation, in that single syllable was more than I could bear. I gulped, hugged my distraught brother close, and cried.

“Stop, Fíli,” Kíli said softly, after a few seconds. “I’m not worth the tears.”

“Yes, you are. Yes, you are!” I said fiercely. “You’re worth everything! You’re my brother, and I will let not anything, including you, take you from me. You hear me?”

“I hurt, Fíl. I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t know, either. But we’ll find something. We’ll figure out what to do. But you’ve got to give us time for that, Kíli. You have to. Promise me that you’ll give us time to find something. Promise.”

The arms around me clung tight. “I can’t.”

I gulped. “Then if you go, I go. Plain and simple. I don’t want to, but I will, if you go.”

“You can’t do that,” Kíli quavered.

“No more than you can.”

A long, shuddering exhale came and went. “I’ll try. I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask. I promise that I’ll make Uncle Thorin and Maamr do something. And I promise that you will not ever get another beating as long as there’s life in my body. Though we might give a few.”

Unaccountably, a noise that was half sob and half laughter escaped my brother. “Don’t tell Maamr that. Or Uncle Thorin.”

I looked up at the sky, silently thanking the Valar for giving Kíli the strength to hold on a little longer. That's when I noticed the two Dwarves standing at the edge of the rocks – Uncle Thorin and Dwalin.

There would be no hiding anything from our uncle. He’d already heard everything we’d said.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the darkness of the last chapter, maybe the sun is rising, after all.

I got Kíli to his feet, put my arm around his shoulders to draw him close, and turned for the path. Uncle Thorin and Dwalin blocked the way back to the path, but I stared them both down.

“I’m taking Kíli home,” I said firmly, and both silently moved aside to let us by. I walked us home, got Kíli into his room with just a mute look at Maamr, and shut the door behind us. Kíli was limp, nearly boneless, so I got his coat and boots off and put him in his blankets. Then I kicked off my boots and climbed in after him. He silently made room for me at the foot of the bed, so that’s where I curled up to keep watch. Neither of us said anything, but I put my hand on his ankle to let him know I was there.

After a while, Kíli fell asleep, likely from exhaustion. I was too wary to leave him, but I eased out of bed and went to the door, calling softly for Maamr. She came quickly, making no attempt to hide how red her eyes were.

“Your uncle told me what happened,” she said.

“He’s asleep now. I’ll stay with him.”

She nodded. “Dwalin brought your coat and sword back, and Kíli’s knife. I thanked him for you.” She looked down, then up again. “What made him think to do such a mad thing?”

“That should tell you how much he hurts.”

She backtracked to the kitchen, returning with a bowl of cookies and a pitcher of milk. She put them in my hand. “Dwalin’s coming back for supper. We’ll sort something out.”

She stroked my cheek, mute thanks for me looking out for Kíli, so I returned her affection with a smile. I went back to Kíli with the milk and cookies, but he was truly asleep at last, and didn’t hear me climb back in to settle at his feet. I took out one of his books to read while he slept.

He slept all afternoon, and past sundown. I let him, thinking that it would do him good, so enjoyed Kíli's book and Maamr’s butter crumbles. After a long while, I found a pen and scrap of paper at Kíli’s worktable, lit the lamp, and made a list. When I smelled stew warming, I ducked out to the kitchen with the list in my hand.

Maamr, Uncle Thorin, and Dwalin sat around the table over bowls of stew and rolls and a pile of meat pies. They’d been talking in low tones, but fell silent when I appeared. I put the slip of paper on the table and slid it towards them.

“What’s that, Fili?” Maamr asked quietly.

“A list of the things that Kíli does well,” I said. “Whatever we do has to take those things into account.”

Thorin glanced at the list. “Animal handling,” he read. “Archery. Arrow making. Basic ironwork. Hand to hand combat. Hunting. Riding. Tracking. Weather sense.” He looked up at me. “This is a good list.”

“That’s because he’s a good brother,” I said with more bitterness than I meant. Thorin looked up, eyebrow arched, but he didn’t slap me down for being surly. I wasn’t being surly to him, but on general principles.

Thorin sighed. “Why do I get the clear impression, Fíli, that both you and Kili expected me to castigate your brother as soon as I set eyes on him?”

“Because you’ve always been hard on him, and he doesn’t need that now,” I shot back, really digging myself a hole.

“I’ve been much harder on you,” he said mildly.

“Most of which I’ve deserved. Kíli hasn’t.”

“He hasn’t?”

Under Uncle’s silky tone was a barb, so I tried to moderate my criticism. “It’s not so much a matter of what he deserves, exactly. It’s a matter of delivery. I’m like a pit hound, used to yelling and scrapping. When you yell at a pit hound, it doesn’t bother him; he just shrugs at you. Kíli, though, is like a sight hound, quick as lightning, subtle as shadows, and eager to please. When you yell at a sight hound, you ruin the dog.”

Dwalin shot an “I told you so” look at Thorin, and so did my mother. Thorin caught both of them, and had the grace to smile.

“You’ve learned much about the management of dogs as well as Dwarves,” he complimented me. “So do I take this list as more evidence that you are taking charge of Kíli’s future?”

Maybe he was teasing me, but saving my brother’s life wasn’t a joke, so this time I stared back without smiling. “I’ll always be his advocate, just as I always have been. Right now, he needs me to be a little more. Since I know more about what he needs than anyone else right now, I’ll take charge. But only until he can do for himself again.”

Thorin merely gave me a nod of the head, conceding my claim. “Very well. Dwalin, your mother, and I have some inquiries to make in the next few days. We’ll keep you informed about how those go, and what we can expect afterwards. You keep watch over Kíli, and keep us informed about what he needs.”

I nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll take my stew and his now. He’ll wake soon, and when he does, I think I can get him to eat a little.”

Maamr dished up two big bowls, found a tray, and loaded it with a jug of milk, two cups, a plate of rolls, and a basket of meat pies. “I’ve got more of everything if either of you are still hungry when that’s done.”

“Thank you, Maamr. Master Dwalin, I’ll see you soon.”

“Laddie,” Dwalin acknowledged, as I took up the tray and headed for Kíli’s room.

The low conversation resumed as soon as I made my exit, but I didn’t care what they had to say to each other. I let myself into Kíli’s room with the stacked tray, and set it on the worktable. I had to move the splintered bits of arrow out of the way, and Kíli stirred as I shifted them.

“Just me,” I said quietly. “I have supper. Maamr made meat pies.”

Kíli sat up looking lost, but I’d decided the best thing for me to do was to stay quiet, and hold no expectations. I put a bowl of stew in his lap with a spoon, set the basket of meat pies between us, and climbed in beside him with my bowl. I had a big mouthful of stew, but Kíli looked at his spoon as if he didn’t know what to do with it. He looked over at me.

“It’s all right, Kíl,” I said softly. “We’re in here, not out there. You don’t have to say anything or do anything. Except eat your stew. You need the warmth, and the nourishment. Don’t worry about anything. Just have your stew.”

When Kíli took a bite of his stew, I sent silent thanks to each and every one of the Valar.

 

* * *

 

_Dwalin told Dís and Thorin what he’d gleaned so far, then paid his respects and took his leave. Silence fell. Dís poured the last of the tea into Thorin’s cup, and put the kettle back on the stove. She sat beside her brother, trying to swallow the lump in her throat._

_“A year’s contract, Thorin? He’ll be gone for a year?”_

_“At least. The clans come this close to Thorin’s Halls only in the spring, Dís. It’s a year or nothing. Kíli’s a shadow of himself. Likely he’ll need that long to recover, in any case.”_

_“Oin said his mind snapped. To want to die like that.”_

_“I wish you’d sent for me to come early.”_

_“I didn’t know to send for you. Kíli and Fíli kept quiet about most of the bullying, likely because of the taunts about me. I suspected the rumors would do me no favors, but I didn’t think my sons would bear the brunt of them so severely.”_

_“Both of them thought I’d blame him for drawing the bullies. Kíli wouldn’t have tried to kill himself if he hadn’t expected me to blame him.”_

_“It may be that he was ashamed to disappoint you, rather than he expected you to blame him. Fíli’s right about him being eager to please.”_

_“At any rate, both my heirs consider me as much a bully as the ones who beat Kíli. That hurts.”_

_Dís sighed. “Fíli is very protective of Kíli. The reverse is true, too. The two of them scrap as if they wanted to kill each other, but let anyone raise an eyebrow at either of them, and the other turns into a bear. That’s most of what you heard.”_

_Thorin grunted. “If this comes to pass, Dís, it won’t be just Kíli out there. You know that.”_

_With a sigh, Dís stared at her cup. “Aye, I know it. Fíli will want to go, too.”_

_“Can you accept that?”_

_Dís sighed again. “I’ll have to. It’s that, or lose them both.”_

* * *

 

Fíli stayed by my side for days. I lost count of how many. He kept telling me that I didn’t need to worry about anything, so I didn’t. I didn’t even worry about not eating, though that got better in a little while. My stomach stopped clenching, and things didn’t smell rancid or taste bitter so much, so gradually my appetite returned. I was tired for a while, too, so mostly we read in bed, or played cards, or played our fiddles. When the snow was gone, we took walks, though Uncle Thorin or Dwalin or Balin usually came with us. I got stronger from the walks, and was soon well enough to go riding. I’d always enjoyed flying around a field or down a path on a sturdy pony, and it was fun to do so again. Fíli and I raced around just for the fun of it, not holding any contests, but just enjoying the chance to run around and be brothers.

I started working on my arrows again. Fíli had been fooling with the bits and bites tossed on my worktable, using the shards for practice repairs because they were too broken to restore. He asked so many questions about it that I finally sat down with him and we pieced a few of the bits together. There wasn’t much point to working on shards, so we went out with Balin in tow to find the right pieces of wood for shafts, and the right feathers for fletching, and before long I’d made us each a dozen new arrows. The day we went out with Dwalin and Uncle Thorin to see them fly was cold, but wonderful. I’d forgotten how much I’d enjoyed my bow, even just to shoot at standing targets with my brother.

I looked up at the sky and smiled. I was happy to live again. I owed it all to Fíli, who had never given up on me, even when I had.

 

* * *

 

Two months passed, until spring was close upon us. Kíli was still quiet, but he was stronger now that he was eating again, and he seemed happy. I still didn’t leave his side often, but as we’d always been comfortable together, that was no hardship. I got him to the armory to spar with me, and he was recovering his usual playfulness in our bouts. He’d resumed making arrows, and both of us had a quiver full of the best shafts available in Thorin’s Halls, bar none. We still didn’t venture many places alone, given that Glimbel had made it known that he didn’t listen to sense, even when delivered on the knuckles of a fierce Dwarvish arms master. But still, I’d done all I could to ease Kili through his despair.

As to what my uncle, mother, and Dwalin had been up to, I had no idea, until Dwalin appeared for supper a week before spring began. Kíli had returned to the kitchen to eat now, so the five of us sat down to supper at our ease.

“I met an old friend today at the horse and pony sales,” Dwalin mentioned, after we’d sated the first flush of hunger. “Her name’s Derfrulia. She’s the matriarch of one of the biggest nomad horse clans up north, ye ken.”

“Horse clans?” Maamr looked up from her venison. “They don’t come this far south often.”

Dwalin shook his head in agreement. “’T isn’t the normal occurrence, as ye say. Derfrulia’s got kin by marriage to one of the families in town, and there’s some celebration or another to take place. She made it known that she’s looking for archers.”

“Archers?” I echoed, frowning in curiosity. “What does a horse clan want archers for?”

“Wolves,” Kíli said softly. “They prey on the herds.”

I snuck a look at Maamr. Her face was neutral, but I wasn’t fooled. She didn’t like what Dwalin had to say, but she’d expected this conversation, which told me that Dwalin had gone looking for this Derfrulia. He’d likely told her a tale about a young Dwarf who was good with a bow who needed time away from Thorin’s Halls.

One look at Uncle Thorin told me he’d already talked to this Derfrulia about Kíli, too.

“She said the wolves are fierce this year. Spring’s the time when ponies and goats drop their young, and she’s worried about losing more of her stock than usual, so she wants extra hands. She asked me if I knew someone who’d be willing to take year’s contract with her clan.”

A year? Kíli would be gone a whole year?

“She’s a picky woman, ye ken, about who she takes on. But I said I might know someone who was an archer good enough to please her lights.”

He enveloped half a meat pie in a single bite and sat back to regard Thorin inscrutably. Thorin mulled over his bowl, then looked at Kíli from under his dark eyebrows. “Would you like to see if you suit, Kíli?”

Kíli met Uncle’s eyes in surprise. For a moment he looked confused. In the next, however, he swallowed his bread and straightened just the smallest hair.

“I would like to, yes. If Fíli comes with me to watch.”

“Course,” I said immediately.

Uncle looked at Maamr, who’d stilled. She looked at Kíli, but nodded. “Aye, if he wants to see her, I’ve no objection.”

At Uncle’s look, Dwalin swallowed the rest of his meat pie. “Derfrulia’s at the Red Dog Inn for the next week. I can take ye down there when it suits ye.”

Thorin looked back at Kíli. “When would suit you, Kíli?”

My brother looked at me, and I shrugged, leaving it up to him. After all, this was his life he would decide, and it wasn’t for me to choose for him. “Tomorrow?”

Dwalin nodded. “Horse clans do their work of a morn early. Come ten or so, they’re free. I’ll come for ye at half past nine, and we’ll see her.”

Kíli nodded. “Thank you, Master Dwalin.”

A smile twitched at the arms master’s lips. “Welcome, laddie. Now, any more of those wee meat pies left?”

* * *

Half past nine the next morn found Kíli, Uncle, Maamr, and me following Dwalin past the center of Thorin’s Halls and on to the street where most of the city’s inns were to be found. One at the farthest end had a stable bigger than the inn itself, and when we drew near, I found out why. This one catered to livestock merchants, who often came with a string of beasts for the market. Horse clans weren’t the same as livestock merchants, but it seemed that the lady we were to meet felt comfortable around the lowing, bleating, and neighing beasts, and had taken a room there. Dwalin put in a word with the maid overseeing the common room, and then we took a table to wait. Uncle got tea and a plate of pastries for us as well as our guest, and we’d just filled our cups when a short, squat Dwarf lady approached our table.

Dwalin got up to greet our guest. She was the most unusual Dwarf dam I’d ever seen. She had iron-grey hair simply plaited in twin braids that stretched almost to her heels, topped with a bright red felted and embroidered wool cap with earflaps and gold and silver coins sewn to the edges. Her tunic was black, but covered with the same bright embroidery, and her sleeveless coat was intricate piecework in blues, with gold buttons stamped with a horse’s head. Her feet were shod in grey suede, heeled, riding boots with upturned toes and silver tassels on the bootstraps. Heavy copper earrings had stretched her earlobes to dangle down nearly to her shoulders, and lines of tattooed dots traced her cheekbones. Her smiling eyes were bright black, and her teeth seemed bright white against her sun-darkened skin. She wasn't just the most unusual Dwarf dam I'd ever seen – she was the most exotic one I'd ever seen, too. I glanced at Kíli, who seemed no less fascinated.

“This is Derfrulia of Clan Kahgli,” Dwalin introduced her. “Derfrulia, meet Thorin Oakenshield, his sister and coregent Dís, and Dís’s lads Fíli and Kíli.”

She nodded to us, and I liked her immediately. She was no nonsense, but with an air of competence as well as friendliness that was a promising combination. As she sat down, I pushed the plate of pastries towards her.

“Thank you, lad,” she smiled, taking one of the small honey cakes. “It’s good of you to hold off a youthful appetite for a guest, so you and your brother take your pick.”

“Thank you,” Kíli and I both murmured, each taking a single cake to nibble.

“So which of these lads is the archer, then?” she said, coming straight to the point. “Fíli or Kíl?”

“I am,” Kíli said softly.

“Kíli, then. How old are you?”

“Nineteen next month.”

She glanced at Thorin. “He’s younger than I like, but it’s been a fierce year for the wolves.”

“Kíli’s a good archer,” I put in firmly. “Better than many twice his age.”

“And how old are you, Fíli? Older, I’d hazard.”

“Yes, Lady. I’m twenty three.”

“Still young, but better. What kind of archer are you?”

“Not as good a one as Kíli, but good enough.”

“And a protective big brother, too. Kíli, can you sit a pony or a ram? I don’t mean, can you sit atop it flapping your legs like a bird. I mean, can you ride it across terrain?”

Kíli nodded. “I can.”

“Shoot and ride at the same time?”

“I can.”

“You understand, Kíli, I’ll ask to see you do those things.”

Kíli nodded. “I expected you to, Lady. I have my bow with me, and I’m glad to put it on the line.”

“Finish your cakes and tea, then. Dwalin, where’s the nearest empty field?”

“Not far,” Dwalin nodded, so after Kíli and I scarfed down the last two cakes, we trooped out of the inn. Derfrulia called the stable boy to fetch one of her ponies, which Kíli took in tow. The horse maid and Dwalin led the way down the lane, talking freely back and forth, until we found a suitable stretch of empty space with a few trees at one end.

“Up you go, lad,” Derfrulia waved at Kíli, but my brother didn’t get aback the pony yet. She was a stout, shaggy thing, and Kíli ran his hands over her first, checking for burrs and straw, pulling out the bits as he found them. The pony had a halter, not a bridle, but he checked her mouth anyway, then her hooves, as we’d been taught.

“Does she have a name?” Kíli asked.

Derfrulia nodded approvingly. “Lissa.”

Kíli nodded his thanks. He talked under his breath to the pony while he fastened his vambraces over his arms, then he stood at her head to scratch under her chin. Finally, he eased atop the pony and nudged her sides to see what she’d do. Lissa moved out well enough, and Kíli directed her around a bit until pony and rider got used to each other.

“That was well done,” Derfrulia allowed in an aside to Thorin.

“He’s good with most animals,” I inserted. “They like him.”

“I see,” Derfrulia returned, giving me an amused look. “And do they like you, too, Fíli?”

“Most do, but they like Kíli more. He’s got a knack.”

Derfrulia grunted consideringly, crossing her arms to study Kíli. “Your brother’s used to riding bareback, then?”

I smirked, reddening a bit. She caught the look and laughed. “Done quite a bit of clandestine riding, then, have you? Nothing wrong with that, as long as the ponies come out of it unscathed. Don’t say anything that’ll get you in trouble with your dam, lad, or your glowering uncle, or that fierce arms master. I’ll take what I like from your expression.”

“Yes, Lady,” I said, trying not to meet the exasperated eyes of either Maamr or Uncle, or grinning. The number of times Kíli and I had gone running off on whatever ponies we’d found loose in a field bore no counting.

“Got your measure of Lissa now, Kíli?” Derfrulia called out to my brother. Kíli trotted up, a smile on his face, his eyes bright.

“I do, Lady. What would you like me to shoot at?”

“What do you think you can hit?” she grinned.

He grinned back. “Whatever your choice is, Lady.”

She laughed, and chose a tree trunk, then a tree branch, then a thin sapling, all of which Kíli targeted with ease. She waved Kíli close, then turned to me.

“All right, Fíli; I’m putting you to work. Go out and see if you can scare up a rabbit or two. Kíli, show me how well you can put something in the stewpot.”

“Yes, Lady,” we chorused, and I trotted off to one side of the trees at the end of the field. Kíli rode off into the middle of the field to wait for whatever I stirred out. I walked quietly until I was abreast of the trees, then came at them from the far side, making as much noise as I could. Sure enough, first a rabbit ran out, but I surprised a pair of deer, too, all of which fled towards Kíli. He sent Lissa after the first deer, taking the rabbit halfway across the field, which sent the deer skittering away from both of us. He skewed after it, placing his arrow neatly in the side of the deer to drop it. The second deer flew towards me, and Kíli let it go unchallenged.

“Well done!” Derfrulia called. “You had time for the second deer. Why’d you let it go?”

“Because Fíli was in the line of fire. My brother’s a doh kro, but I’m fond of him, and it’s going to take me long enough to dress out one deer and a rabbit as it is.”

“Good answers, all around,” the horse maid nodded in satisfaction. “All right, Dwalin, the lad’s everything you said he is. But he’s not of age.”

“The foals yer wolves chase aren’t of age, either,” Dwalin threw right back at her. “Or are the wolves up north so polite as to chase only the older ones?”

Derfrulia laughed in delight at Dwalin’s retort. “No, they don’t, I’m sorry to say. Point taken. Well, Thorin? I’m willing to take him on for half, given his age.”

“Half?” I snorted despite myself. “Half wages? That’s robbery, Lady, and no lie. You won’t find anyone who’s as good with a bow as Kíli is, and you know it. Maybe he’s younger than you’re used to, but he learns fast, and you don’t have to tell him anything twice. You saw how good he is with your pony, too. He’s worth full wages right from the start! Assuming he even wants your job, which he might not, if it gets him only half what he’s worth.”

The horse maid put her arms akimbo and gave me a look up and down. “You speak for Kíli, then, and not your uncle and your mother?”

“I do, when Kíli doesn’t speak for himself. So tell him to his face that his bow will get him only half wages and see what he says.”

Kíli had ridden up in time to hear the last few exchanges, slipped off Lissa’s back, and stood holding her halter and looking back and forth between the horse maid and me.

“Is that the offer?” Kíli said, his eyes wide. “Half wages?”

“I told her full or nothing, Kíl,” I said stoutly. “You’re worth full, and she knows it.”

Kíli cocked his head, considering the horse maid. I knew he wanted desperately to be considered equal to the job, and I tensed, hoping he wouldn’t let Derfrulia’s feint demoralize him. He took a breath.

“I know it, too. It’s true, I’m young, and I eat a lot. But I’m good with your ponies, Lady, and whatever else your stock includes, and I can hit anything I aim at. So make your best offer.”

The horse maid looked Kíli up and down, up and down, rocking back on her heels, then forward again. She nodded. “Aye, lad, I’ll take you for full, if you want the job.”

Kíli seemed to consider, then looked at me. His slightly arched eyebrow told me what he wanted to do, and I grinned back, in full agreement. “That depends how much you’ll offer my brother.”

“Your brother?”

“My brother,” Kíli said firmly. “You’ve got a lot of wolves; we’ve got a lot of ways to stop wolves. Fíli rides as well as I do. He’s as good with any blade as I am with my bow. He eats a bit less than I do; I’m a bit better with animals. If you like, he'll happily prove his skills for you as easily as I did. So what’s your offer for the pair of us?”

Dwalin smothered amusement, Maamr was nearly apoplectic, and Uncle didn’t know whether to laugh or shout because he wasn’t in control. The horse maid took one look at them, then at Kíli and me smiling at each other, and broke out into full laughter.

“Did the two of you plan this all along, or did you just come up with it?”

I grinned. “If Kíli hadn’t asked, I would have.”

“So in addition to everything else, you’re good at divining each other’s thoughts. Good in the field, that.” She cast her sharp eyes at Thorin and Maamr. “You’ll let the both of them go?”

“Name your offer first,” I said, only a second before Kíli said the same thing.

“Fair enough. Full for each of you, on trial for the first month, then set after that if you suit.”

“Taken,” Kíli and I both said.

Thorin looked at Maamr, who swallowed hard. “I knew you two would end up wrangling some way to stay together. If that’s what you both want, then you have my leave.”

“My leave as well,” Uncle agreed shaking his head.

“All right, lads,” Derfrulia turned to both of us, her hand out. I slapped it, then Kíli did. "Good bargain."

We were off to the steppes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli and Kíli make their preparations to leave for the northwestern steppe with Derfrulia's horse clan. Uncle Thorin has some much needed words for his sister's sons, Kíli chops wood to keep his excitement under control, and Fíli makes a great sacrifice for his brother.

Life changed as soon as Kíli and I slapped Derfrulia’s hand. There was no work contract for us to sign, as the horse clans took their word to be as binding as law, and there was no long-winded blather about you will and I shall and they will never. The change was just as irrevocable as if there had been paper and words, though, and we realized it as soon as we saw the two beads in Derfrulia’s hand.

Derfrulia fished them out of the deep pocket of her piecework coat, giving one to me and one to my brother. Kíli’s wide eyes met mine when he realized that we each had a Clan Kahgli bead in our hand. They were nothing like the round ones that town clans favored. They were bright red, ceramic cylinders with white and black dots down one side, and a K rune incised on the other. Dwarf maids and lads alike wore clan beads braided into their hair and beards; the placement and braiding patterns indicated a Dwarf’s place and standing in the extended family. As Uncle Thorin’s heirs, Kíli and I both wore small Clan Durin beads – as first heir, I wore mine by my left ear, thought to be closer to the heart, in a simple three-strand braid; as second heir, Kíli wore his by his right ear. Now we’d have another clan’s bead in our hair, and that meant we had new allegiances, new duties, and new status to sort out. It also meant that despite our youth, we weren’t lads knocking about the house anymore.

“Plait those on the right,” Derfrulia instructed.

I blinked in surprise. “That’s... younger sons of Clan Kahgli, Lady?”

She nodded matter-of-factly. “Aye, Fíli. You’re both underage, and putting the bead there will tell anyone who cares to look that my eye’s on you. My lot won’t put anything on you, but in case you cross paths with anyone else who might care to, they’ll think twice about it. Clan Kahgli isn’t one for ruffians to cross.”

The horse maid’s words were nonchalant enough, but I understood what she was doing. She knew about the bullies ganging up on Kíli, and was doing what she could to keep them away from him until we could leave for the steppe.

Kíli swallowed and looked at his boots. I tensed. Would he feel shame or anger at the gesture? When he looked up, however, he put his hand over his heart and offered the horse maid a bow.

“Thank you, Lady.”

“Welcome,” she said simply. “Give Lissa to me, then the two of you dress out that game for your mother. Give it to your uncle and yon surly arms master, then both of you come back with me to the inn. You’ll need to know what to pack for working with Clan Kahgli.”

“You’d do us an honor to take luncheon with us, Derfrulia,” Maamr stepped forward. “You and the lads can talk at your leisure in our house.”

“It’d be a pleasure to have a home-cooked meal,” the horse maid grinned in anticipation. Instead of the bow we were used to, where one placed the right hand over the heart, she put her palms together and bowed to Maamr. “I thank you for the offer, and I’m glad to accept. Well, lads? Your mother’s luncheon’s calling, so fetch yon game while I see to my pony, yes?”

“Yes, Lady.”

Kíli and I hurried to gather the game as directed. While Kíli pulled out his arrows, cleaned them, and put them back in his quiver, I fetched the rabbit. I took Kíli’s bow and quiver, and he hefted the deer across his shoulders; he might be thin, but he was strong, and he carried it easily as we trailed Dwalin, Derfrulia, Uncle, and Maamr as they talked on the way home.

Once we got home, Derfrulia lingered outside, supposedly to chat with Dwalin, Maamr, and Uncle, but her eyes were on Kíli and me as we carried the game to the edge of the trees behind the house to dress it out. We stripped off coats and tunics and set to.

“I didn’t expect that with the beads,” Kíli murmured as he opened the deer. I gutted the rabbit with a few swift strokes, stripped off the skin, and then went to help Kíli. “Do a good job, Fíl. She’s watching us.”

“That she is. She’s not one to let anything go by her. Did you see those earrings? I like her.”

“So do I. So do a good job so she doesn’t regret giving us her clan beads.”

“Course not. Best job ever.”

“I mean it, Fíl. I don’t want to mess up. Thanks for sticking up for me.”

“I just stated the obvious, Kíl. You stunned her with your shooting and your bargaining.”

Kíli shot me a look, but my smile assured him that I wasn’t teasing, so he smiled back, relaxing a little. “I hope so.”

“You did. Don’t worry. I’m ready at this end.”

We carefully heaved out the intestines and other inedible bits so as not to foul the meat, but we kept the heart, liver, and kidneys, as they were delicacies. Maamr came out with a basin to take those, then Kíli and I got the deer properly hung in the smokehouse so it was away from scavengers while it drained and aged. We rinsed clean, toweled off, and ran inside to my room to pull on our tunics and help each other braid Derfrulia’s beads into our hair. Given how soft Kíli’s hair was, he had me braid his extra tight and tie it off with a linen thread to make sure the braid held.

“Make sure it’s tight, Fíli,” he urged. “I don’t want to lose her clan bead not even an hour after she gave it to me.”

“It’ll stay in, if I have to knot it in the braid. You may never get it out,” I teased.

“As long as it stays in,” he said, feeling for the bead and drawing it up to look at it. I’d unwound his Clan Durin braid, adding more hair so it would hold two beads; the Kahgli bead went below the Clan Durin bead, showing that Kili was Durin first and Kahgli second, as was proper. He gave it an experimental tug. “It has to stay in.”

“It will, Kíl. Relax. You got the job. You got us both the job.”

We switched positions so Kíli could weave my bead into a new plait by my right ear, giving me one on each side. His warm brown eyes were bright with excitement. “I almost don’t believe it. We have our first paying job, Fíl. We’re going to live in a tent and ride across the steppes on ponies all day. I can’t wait!”

Catching Kíli’s excitement, I couldn’t resist laughing. “Yah, and stay up all night watching livestock in snowstorms. What could be better?”

“It doesn’t snow on the steppes in the summer,” he snorted, finishing my braid.

“So we’ll stay up all night watching livestock in rainstorms. What could be better?”

Kíli’s hands paused. “Don’t you want to go, Fíl? It’s all right if you don’t want to. I want to go, and I want us to be together, but you’ve got a place here, so if you don’t want to...”

“Of course I want to go!” I assured him. “I do, Kíli. This is a chance like no other! Besides, us being apart for a whole year... I don’t want that for anything.”

“I don’t, either. And if you have to stay up all night watching livestock in a snowstorm, I’ll stay up with you, so it won’t be so bad.”

“I might hold you to that,” I teased. “Come on. I’m starved, and Maamr’s cooking smells extra good today.”

We ran back to the kitchen to rejoin our elders. As expected, luncheon was a feast, thanks to Kíli’s bow. Maamr was a good cook, and knew how to slice venison liver as thinly as an eyelash, then fry it with onions so fast that it melted on your tongue like butter. There was lots of fresh bread, venison steaks, the first small leaves of spring lettuce, sprouted beans, and fermented cabbage. There was even enough plum cake leftover from last night for us to soak it in thick cream until it turned into mushy cobbler, which looked like a mess but tasted fit for a feast day.

Derfrulia and Dwalin carried most of the conversation, talking about the clansmen they both knew, but Uncle and Maamr were far from silent. Both Kíli and I were glad to let the adults talk. It was a trick we’d had learned at an early age, to behave at table and stay quiet, because that gave us the chance to eat more, and also to pick up gossip that wasn’t usually spoken around lads. I’m sure they were on to us about the eating, but maybe not about the gossip, for we were careful never to repeat anything we heard. Neither of us cared about who was courting whom, or who was finished courting whom, but knowing the troubles of our elders had helped us dodge trouble among lads our own age a time or two.

It also helped us court trouble on rare occasion, such as the time Uncle had let slip where someone had chosen to hide several bushels of pilfered apples. Between the two of us, we must have eaten close to a bushel of those apples, and very sweet they’d been, too.

When luncheon was done but for the cake and tea, Derfrulia turned her attention to my brother and me. She listed in detail what we’d need to bring for our stint on the steppes – tough working garb, of course, from sturdy boots, warm coats, thick trousers, furred hats, and mitts for winter, to tough linen tunics and trews that would keep off the sun and brush without making us stew in our own juices for summer. Extra cloth, in case we had to replace smalls or a tunic or two. Blades and bows. Riding gloves, Kíli’s fletching kit, our sharpening and polishing kits, sewing things, extra laces and buckles and belts and bowstrings. Skinning and utility knives, eating spoons and small cups for the saddle, and a handful of other useful tools. Our fiddles, too, which was a surprise. The horse clans had to make their own entertainment, given the remote lands they roved, and music was a large part of that entertainment. Derfrulia was elated with the prospect of adding new songs and sounds to her nightly camp.

“See that you pack small and light, lads – no more than a good-sized miner’s pack, as you’re likely familiar with. Don’t count your fiddles in that lot, though. We’ll find space for those, no matter what,” she grinned.

“What about blankets, sleeping pads, or riding tack?” Kíli asked softly.

“Clan Kahgli provides all such things, but an extra blanket can be a blessing on many a winter’s night. Thick wool is best.”

“Riding boots, or work boots, Lady?” I asked.

“Heeled work boots will work for both, and saves you the weight of two pairs. But some like to bring two, so as to balance the wear of a year’s work.”

“What about money?” Kíli ventured again. “Do we need any?”

Derfrulia gave him a close look. “If you’re looking for a game of chance of a long winter’s night, I’ll tell you that I don’t hold with any in my tent. The contract herders do a spot of that in theirs, but as both of you are underage, you’ll have no part in that.”

“N-no, Lady,” Kíli blushed. “It’s just that I don’t think of horse clans as going near a town on its travels, but maybe you do, and if you do, would there be anything we’d need money for?”

“Ah, understood. You don’t want to assume you know everything. Rare, that, in a young one. You’re right that we don’t venture into towns much, as we have to follow our stock, and we’re as self-sufficient as we can be. But on rare occasion, we’ve had to send someone for medicine, or things for repairs we can’t do ourselves. The clan uses our own funds for that. If those going into town want something beyond that, they use what’s in their own pockets for it.”

Kíli looked at me, and I looked back. Neither of us could think of anything else to ask, so Kíli slid his eyes towards Uncle. I blinked in understanding.

“Uncle, Maamr, Master Dwalin, is there anything else we should ask?”

They asked a few questions for form’s sake, but I was proud that they didn’t come up with anything important that Kíli and I had missed.

“All right, Kíli, Fíli. You’ve got a few days to collect and pack your gear. Come five days from now, you be at the inn at eight in the morn, and we’ll be off.”

Kíli and I looked at each other, and my brother couldn’t resist an excited, gleeful look. That look always lit up his face when we got into the worst trouble, and had the most fun. Its mate was plastered all over my face, too.

“Yes, Lady,” Kíli said demurely, drawing Derfrulia’s bark of laughter.

“Yes, Lady, yourself, you scamp,” she shot back. “We’ll see how polite you are once we’re out on the steppe.”

“My brother’s always polite,” I protested. “Even when he’s hungry.”

“And I suppose you are, too, Fíli?” she replied. “I’ll expect it, starting with your prompt attention to the time we’re to leave.”

After a few more pleasantries, Derfrulia took her leave, thanking my mother for her excellent cooking and hosting. Dwalin left with her, and Maamr walked out with them for the last pleasantries. That left Kíli and me at the table with Uncle.

“Both of you look to your things this afternoon,” Uncle said. “We’ll go to market tomorrow to see to the things you don’t have.”

“Yes, Uncle. Thank you, Uncle,” we murmured, and got up to do just that.

“Fíli, Kíli, before you go...” Uncle Thorin began, giving us both a strange look. Our uncle was a formidable and direct Dwarf, with a strength of personality that made him a fit force to lead the often fractious and intractable Blue Mountain Dwarves. At the same time, he had a reserve that sometimes made it hard for me to know what he was thinking, and he could be a stern taskmaster, but he was never cruel or manipulative. This expression wasn’t anger, amusement, or confusion – in fact, it revealed even less than usual, so I wasn’t at all clear about what he would say next. My eyes met Kíli’s, but he didn’t have any more idea of what was up than I did. We stayed in our chairs and warily gave Uncle our full attention.

“You did well today, Kíli, both with your bow, and your sure hand with Derfrulia’s pony. You made a good bargain for yourself and your brother, too, and you did our family credit. Thank you.”

Kíli blushed, but he held Uncle’s gaze. “You’re welcome, Uncle Thorin. I’m glad to be a credit to you for once.”

“You have _always_ been a credit to me, Kíli,” Uncle said quietly and firmly, and his intense gaze was for Kíli only. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to be with you as much as you’ve needed, but never doubt that I’m proud of you. Never doubt that.”

“No, sir. I won’t.”

Uncle turned those piercing blue eyes on me, but their intensity banked as I gazed back. He looked back and forth between Kíli and me as he continued. “I should have spoken to both of you before, when we would have had time to build upon it together, rather than just a few days before you leave for the steppes. I thank each of you for being your brother’s champion when I haven’t been here to do so myself. I am not as oblivious as you think, and I know very well that life has not been easy for either of you, for many reasons. But you’re both smart, strong, and skilled, with good hearts, and you are my heirs because of that, not because you are my sister’s sons. The villainy of a few bullies sullies only their names. It has not ever sullied either of yours.”

Uncle Thorin’s words were simple and direct, and behind them was his unshakeable belief in what he said. To Kíli, his conviction was like water to a parched plant, and it calmed a little of his uncertainty. I hoped the assurance of the one whom Kíli and I looked up to as our father would remain in Kíli’s heart, and he wouldn’t doubt himself so fiercely going forward.

“Thank you, Uncle,” Kíli murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but his eyes shone with gratitude for Uncle’s affirmation. Maybe Uncle had taken to heart what I’d said about Kíli being like a sight hound that flourished when offered a kind word. “I’ll work hard for Derfrulia, and for our family, too.”

“I know you will, lad. Now, you and your brother see to your packing, and tomorrow we’ll go to market.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kíli got up and headed for his room. I lingered a moment, catching Uncle’s eye.

“Fíli?” he questioned.

“Thank you for saying that to Kíli, Uncle. He needed it, and he’ll be easier for it.”

“Maybe you didn’t need to hear it, but you deserved to, also. I am proud of both my sister’s sons.” His lips curved into an amused smile. “Even when the oldest one is not respectful of his uncle.”

He referred to the epithet I’d used when I’d kept Kíli from slitting his wrists. I’d wondered how long it would take before he took me to task for that.

“Desperate moments call for desperate tactics,” I said firmly, but with a smile. “I’d say anything if it would save Kíli’s life.”

He nodded, still smiling. “And so it did. I’m glad it worked.”

“Thank you, sir,” I replied. I was young and stupid, but not so young and stupid as to say anything else about it. “I’ll see to my packing now, if that’s all right with you, Uncle?”

He nodded, his smile broadening.

We understood each other very well in that moment.

 

* * *

 

I was so excited about going to the steppes that I packed and repacked my things half a dozen times that afternoon alone, finally giving up only when Fíli reminded me that we’d have more stuff to add to our packs once we went to the market in the morn. I’d set myself and everyone in the house mad if I tried to keep still. So I took myself out to the woodpile and the ever-present pile of storm wrack and sawn logs that needed an axe to make it fit for the fire, and had at. That kept my hands busy, but not so much that I couldn’t think about what was before Fíli and me.

I imagined what it would be like to sit a shaggy steppe pony under such a wide sky, and see from horizon to horizon across the flat plains. Unlike the heavily forested Blue Mountains, the steppes were treeless, which was hard to imagine. There were vast herds of antelope there, so large, it was said, that they stretched from horizon to horizon, just as the land did. Thousands of birds lived there, too, and occasional bears, but the common predators were foxes, and the wolves that Fíli and I had been hired to shoot. What if there were so many wolves that I’d run out of arrows? Maybe I should take extra shafts, fletching feathers, and steel heads...

Despite my worry, Fíli assured me that he was just as excited as I was about our adventure. He was older, and more cautious than I was, and it was like him to think about the rigors of watching over stock. I’d find out about those rigors soon enough, but today I wanted to enjoy the mystery and adventure ahead before the drudgery and dirt came to dull the days. I finally was reassured that Fíli was as excited as I was when he padded into my room not an hour after we went to bed. We were both too excited to sleep, so we sat up for a long time whispering about what it would be like, and where we’d go, and what other stock we’d tend other than ponies. He never did get back to his own bed, and we fell asleep back-to-back under my quilts, as we’d done so often as small lads.

Uncle Thorin kept his word in the morn, and after a big breakfast he and Maamr set out with us for the market. We already had coats and trews and boots, but Maamr got us extra gloves and furry hats and warm tunics. Uncle Thorin got us each a new utility knife, new bowstrings and fiddle strings, even small traveling bags for our fiddles. We found a vendor of specialty blankets that were lightweight, but warmer than regular wool blankets, as they were spun and woven of a special lofty goat hair. They were a dear price, but Maamr would have nothing else, and so Uncle turned over the coins for a pair of them with a resigned smile. A short time later, it was Maamr who wore the resigned smile when Uncle insisted on stout miner’s packs to replace the smaller, more bedraggled ones we had at home.

That afternoon, Fíli and I set to our packing with a vengeance. The pile of gear was enormous, but Uncle showed us how to pack small and light, and the pile whittled down to a more manageable size. We whittled it a bit more by opting not to carry as many duplicates of things. My sewing kit would do for us both, and so would Fíli’s sharpening stones.

We discussed and repacked and dithered and imagined for the next three days. I chopped so much wood that Uncle and Dwalin would have to find more storm wrack or saw more rounds before Maamr would have to chop any more. The woodpile towered over me, and the area around the chopping block looked emptier than it had in a long time. While I chopped, Fíli turned over the kitchen garden for Maamr and worked in all the finished compost, readying it for sowing when the weather warmed. We cleaned out and repaired the chicken coop. We did a little more hunting to make sure that Maamr would have meat enough for the next several weeks. All the extra work wore us out and made Maamr shake her head at the state of our appetites, but I was grateful to be tired and full. It was a lot easier to get to sleep at night.

The day finally arrived! This time, Fíli wasn’t the only one up early in anticipation of a special day. We raced to the kitchen to see which one got there first – I did, as my room was closer, and I had the shorter path. Fíli tried to push me away from the porridge pot, but I held him off with the ladle until Maamr could call him to task. I filled my bowl with a chortle, and fell into my chair already reaching for the raisins and cream. I had to grab my raisins fast, for Fíli snatched the crock from me as he went by.

“Already got mine, doh kro,” I snickered, wolfing down big a big spoonful of porridge. “Didn’t leave you any.”

“Yes, you did, you squirrel,” he snarked, plunking down into his chair. “Give me the buns.”

“Get them yourself,” I grinned, taking another two off the plate. “My hands are full.”

“Then give me one of yours and get another one yourself.”

“Keep wishing, brother.”

“Maamr, tell Kíli to give me the buns!”

Fíli lunged across the table, grabbing for the plate, but the meat fork in Maamr’s hand thwacked him across the knuckles, making him yell and snatch his hand back. “When you remember how to ask for the plate, I’ll see that you get it, and not before.”

“Please pass the buns, dear brother,” Fíli growled, shooting a surreptitious glare at Maamr’s back, which made me snicker. I stuffed one of my ham buns into my mouth and pushed the plate towards him. I took the bun out of my mouth.

“There you are, dear brother,” I said with a smirk.

He glared at me. “You took all the ham ones.”

“I like ham buns.”

“So do I. Trade a bacon one for a ham one.”

I tossed my uneaten ham bun at him. He had to drop his porridge spoon to catch it, and the clatter of the spoon drew Maamr’s meat fork across my knuckles. She was an artist in how to inflict the most amount of pain without actually breaking anything, and my eyes watered at how badly my knuckles stung.

“Both of you, stop pillaging the table like a pair of urchins!” she snapped in exasperation. “No matter how excited you both are this morn, I would thank you both to remember your manners and not leave the house in a state of ruin!”

“Yes, Maamr,” we both murmured in abject submission, grinning at each other only after she’d turned back to the stove. We had to wipe those grins off our face quickly, though, for Uncle Thorin was coming down the hall from his room.

“Wasting no time in making your presence known, I see,” Uncle observed drily, eying us with a quelling look before he ladled a bowl of porridge for himself. He sat between us, one eyebrow rising at the raisins scattered over the table and the splotches of cream next to them. “Unbeknownst to me, have we suddenly become hosts for two messy bairns? For this is surely not the result of either of you, is it?”

“Sorry, Uncle,” Fíli apologized, picking up the scattered raisins.

I fetched the washrag out of the dish basin to wipe up the spills of cream. “Sorry, Uncle.”

“Much better,” he said. “Even though neither of you left much on the table for the rest of us.”

“Don’t let the lads’ bad manners infect you, too, Thorin,” Maamr said crisply, setting down another plate of buns. When she turned back to the stove, there were three of us sharing wry grins and a roll of the eyes. In mid roll, however, Maamr held up her meat fork, not bothering to turn around to look at us. “And don’t any of you forget that I see a lot more than what I’m looking at, so dispense with the naughty grins and rolling eyeballs. One day, the lot of you will find your eyeballs rolling down the hall and out the door for your trouble.”

“Yes, Dís, yes, Maamr,” we mumbled, and breakfast took on a more sedate appearance. But soon enough, we’d eaten our fill, and Fíli and I had stowed the last few things in our packs. We tidied our rooms a bit, and swiped a last comb through our hair. Maamr had a packet of pastries and buns for us to share on our journey with Derfrulia, and Uncle Thorin and Maamr pulled on their coats to see us down to the inn. Dwalin came in, wanting to see us off as well.

I looked around Maamr’s kitchen for what would be the last time in a year. I would miss it, as well as its warmth, Maamr’s wonderful food, her loving presence, the lessons learned at the table, the laughter that had cheered me, and the solace that had banished many a sorrow. I had never been away from home so long before, and the next time I saw this kitchen, I would be a different Dwarf.

“Ready, Fíl?” I asked.

My brother’s gaze swept the kitchen, too, thinking the same things I had. Yes, this was home, but new things beckoned, and when he looked at me, his smile was just as eager as mine.

“Ready!”

I led the way outside, with Uncle Thorin and Dwalin behind me. We were off.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, I forgot,” I said, as Kíli, Uncle, and Dwalin preceded me out of the kitchen. “Maamr, can you help me with something? I’ll be right there, Kíli! Just forgot something!”

“What did you forget, Fíli?” Maamr asked when the others had gone outside.

I put my pack down, dashed down to the sitting room to Maamr’s sewing basket, and got her big shears. When I ran back to the kitchen and handed them to her, she looked at me with a frown.

“Cut my hair the same length as Kíli’s,” I said, before I thought better of it.

“Fíli!” Maamr gasped. “I can’t –”

“Just do it. Please, Maamr.”

Maamr put her hand on my shoulder. “Fíli, no. You don’t have to cut your hair. Kíli wouldn’t want you to do that for him.”

“I’m not going to let him miss this chance to get away from the bullies!” I insisted. “Just cut mine so it’s the same length, so his short hair won’t look odd to the horse clans. Come on, Maamr, or he’ll come back in here, and I don’t want him to tell me no! Cut it!”

“Oh, Fíli.” Maamr swallowed hard, but she nodded. “Turn around, then.”

I did, and almost twitched away before Maamr could cut a single hair. But I shut my eyes and forced myself still. I admit that my throat closed when I heard the sound of the shears.

“It’s done.”

Maamr held a full foot of my hair in her hands when I turned around. “It’s longer than what you asked for, but it’s shorter than what it should be.”

Despite my best intentions, I gulped to see so much of my hair in Maamr’s hands. Mine was still a good six inches longer than Kíli’s but... Dwarves prided themselves on the length and thickness of their hair, and I was – had been – proud of mine.

How could I have been so stupid as to cut off my hair!?

Maamr put my sheaf of hair down on the table as gently as if she handled a treasure, then leaned forward and kissed my cheek. To my surprise, she hugged me hard. “It’ll grow back, my sweet, brave, unselfish son. In a few months, you won’t know any was gone.”

I hugged her just as hard back, and mustered a smile. “Thank you, Maamr. I hope so.”

Maamr held me a moment longer, then gave me a little push. “It will. Now, outside with you. You don’t want to be late.”

I put up my hood before we went outside, and we hurried to catch up to Dwalin, Uncle, and Kíli just up the lane. Kíli viewed me suspiciously, but let Maamr go by him before he fell in beside me. We got just two steps farther on before he reached over to yank my hood down. His jaw dropped, and he gasped out loud at my cropped hair. He paled to the color of fresh cheese.

“Valar, Fíli! You cut your –!”

“Shut up, you doh kro!” I hissed, shoving his hand off my hood. “Just – shut up! It’ll grow back, won’t it? Just like yours.”

Kíli’s eyes were dark, and his voice was nothing but a whisper. “You didn’t have to do that, Fíl. You didn’t.”

“Course I didn’t, Kíl. It’s just hair. This’ll be easier to take care of when we get to the steppes. I’ll grow it back when we get home.” I grabbed his arm. “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”

Kíli silently fell in beside me, but as we steeled ourselves to face Uncle, he gave my shorn locks a tug.

It was the only thanks I needed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's an exciting day -- Fíli and Kíli leave for the northern steppes for their year's sojourn with Derfrulia's horse clan. There will be the usual farewells to family and friends, but not all the farewells will be bittersweet.
> 
> A couple of bullies are about to get a farewell they hadn't counted on. And what gets into Master Dwalin?
> 
> There is also one surprising hello...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> Clearly, Master Dwalin began to teach our intrepid duo Black Speech at an early age :-)
> 
> Shakutarbik kurvanog = fucking Dwarf (Orcish)  
> Kurv under = ugly fucker (Orcish)  
> Skator-u = To hell (i.e., damned) (Orcish)  
> Dahaut = shit (Orcish)  
> Nar thos = eunuch (literally, no sack) (Orcish)  
> Mahal = Khazuduhl name for Aulë

My brother had cut his hair! That long, thick, blond mane that maids thought was so magnificent – the doh kro had hacked off a good foot of it! What madness had made him desecrate his biggest vanity?

My brother was not just a doh kro. He was an _intense_ doh kro, and he brought that intensity to everything he did. He was the biggest tease, the worst pain, and the most unmerciful opponent with a blade I’d ever fought against other than Master Dwalin himself. If I had a ruby for every scar, bruise, and sprain I’d gotten from Fíli in the name of sparring practice, I’d possess half the wealth of legendary Erebor and could hire someone to take my place against him. Fíli’s intensity also made him my unfailing champion and best cohort in mischief, and he loved me without reserve, no matter how odd I was. He’d sacrificed his vanity and honor for me, so my cropped mane wouldn’t look so odd to the horse clans in comparison.

How would I ever repay him for that?

“ _Shakutarbik kurvanog_ ,” I breathed, keeping one eye on Maamr as I gave his shorn locks a tug. She had an uncanny ability to know when I swore, and I had to be nimble to dodge her cuffs, not that they hurt very much – it was the principle of the thing, mostly. “Are you daft? That bonny, brown-haired dairy maid won’t want to kiss you now that you’ve hacked off your hair!”

Fíli shoved off my hand. “I won’t be around for her to kiss for the next year, will I, _kurv under_? Besides, she’s too old for me.”

“You’re full of _dahaut_ – what is she, all of thirty?” I scoffed. “She’s hasn’t even gotten her full beard yet.”

“Shut up! The only reason she wanted to kiss me was because of the clan bead in my hair,” he retorted. “So forget about her, just like she’ll forget about me as soon as we’re down the lane!”

I winced. Fíli was exaggerating; a lot of maids were after my brother for more than his status as Uncle’s first heir, and we both knew it. But it was like him to cast what he’d done as no loss to him, so that I didn’t take it as my fault, so I played along. “Eh... she wasn’t that bonny anyway, Fíl. You can do a lot better than her. Maamr didn’t need the milk that badly.”

Fíli punched my arm, but lightly, and he smothered an outraged laugh. “Arse hole.”

“Champion farter, you are. That’s because your arse hole is so big and flappy.”

We dissolved into snickers at our childish insults, so much that Uncle turned around to look at us. Fíli tried to grab his hood to pull it up, which was a futile effort to avoid Uncle’s wrath about what he’d done to his hair. I grabbed his arm before he could touch his hood.

“Maamr’s already told him. You were daft to do it, but now that you have, you’d better brass it out.”

Fíli swallowed, but he met Uncle’s widening eyes without apology, and Maamr yanked Uncle back around before he said anything. Maamr was usually more easygoing than Uncle, not that that meant much most of the time, for they were both strong-willed, stubborn, and sticklers about how they wanted things done. But there were times when Maamr would intercede for us with Uncle, and today was one such time. I didn’t have to hear what she said to know that Uncle had just been reminded of how fierce his sister was. I smothered a chortle.

“See? I told you you’d be better to brass it out. The Great She-Bear has spoken. As long as you brass it out, if Uncle tries to say anything to you, Maamr will have his arse.”

Fíli tried to smother a grin, but he had to look down at his boots before he could do so. “Valar, Kíl. You’re going to get us into so much trouble.”

“Not this time. Just lock your lips, and keep walking.”

Fíli pretended to heft his pack, so I let his arm go and did the same. Uncle Thorin turned around again long enough to send us an affronted glare, but Maamr yanked him around again. Of course, that stir made Dwalin look around, and while his glare was thunderous, he wisely kept his mouth shut. Maamr wasn’t above giving anyone a tongue lashing if it suited her.

We walked briskly down to the Red Dog Inn. Despite the company I kept, I kept an eye out for trouble, just from force of habit. But if harriers thought to waylay me today, they’d risk their lives. Dwalin’s reputation alone was enough to keep any Dwarf gang at bay. He was still rightly famous for the observation he’d made about the number of Orcs facing him, Balin, and Uncle at a critical point of the Battle of Azanulbizar – “There’s only a few hundred of them; the three of us can take them.” Add Thorin, my mother, Fíli, and me to Dwalin’s ferocity, and not even my worst enemy would so much as look at me.

I wished I didn’t need them beside me. But maybe a year away would make the bullies look elsewhere for a victim, not that I wished them on anyone.

I hoped no one in the horse clans would try to take their place.

I put that out of my thoughts – I was not going to sink to that low place again. I was going to hold my own, and do Fíli proud.

There was the inn ahead of us! A string of ponies was already forming in front of the stable, even though it was still a bit before eight. Most of them stood beside baggage frames, but the four at the head of the string were still bare of tack. Dwalin strode forward, his gravelly voice rising to bark out Derfrulia’s name. The horse maid came out of the barn leading two more ponies, and raised a hand to greet us. I couldn’t help but grin in anticipation, and poked Fíli with my elbow, so excited was I. Fíli rolled his eyes.

“Valar, Kíl, you’re grinning like a bairn. Cut it out.”

“No,” I shot back, still grinning. “I’m excited, and I don’t care who knows it.”

“You look like the town loon.”

I grabbed Fíli’s shoulders and shook them. “You’re just jealous.”

“Of what? The town loon?”

I snickered. “No, of me. Because I got us this job. Me.”

Fíli’s lips twitched into a smile rather than the exasperated frown he’d hoped to turn on me. “Aye, ye did. So stop gaping like a loon so we keep it.”

I tried to smother my grin into something more sedate, but didn’t succeed very well. So I gave up and turned it into a greeting for the horse maid. “Good morn, Derfrulia! Good morn!”

“Good morn, Kíli! Good morn, Fíli! Good, the two of you know how to keep correct time, and you kept yourselves to a pack apiece, plus your fiddles and bows. Well done! Set your gear down here next to mine, and we’ll get the baggage loaded. Yanna? Yanna! The Durin lads are here!”

As we shrugged off our packs and set them beside Derfrulia’s things, Maamr set our fiddles beside them, and we laid our bows and quivers on top. Derfrulia moved off to talk with Dwalin, Uncle, and Maamr, leaving Fíli and me to wait for this Yanna, likely one of Derfrulia’s pony handlers. I straightened, turned and –

Yanna was the most beautiful Dwarf maid I’d ever laid eyes on.

She'd woven most of her warm, chestnut brown hair into a thick braid that cascaded down her back past her hips. Tiny silver bells wound into her beard and the small clan braids by her ears added a mysterious music when she walked. She had a series of small silver rings in her ears that danced in time to the music of her bells with each confident step she took. Her eyes were as direct and assured as her mother’s, for surely this was Derfrulia’s daughter – she had the same piercing eyes, though these were hazel, not black. Unlike her mother, she didn’t wear a maid’s riding coat, but a lad’s tough brown trews, black work boots, and russet tunic, though the tunic was covered with the same exotic embroidery as her mother’s coat. She bore a sturdy knife at her belt, and another stuck out of her right boot top. She was shorter than Fíli, but the force of her personality stood a foot taller than I was. When she skewered me with her direct gaze, it bored right down to my soul.

I could hardly bear to look back at her. I knew what I looked like, especially next to my handsome brother – weird hair, pointed chin, scanty beard, and tall, spindly body.

_Come on, Kíli! No cringing. You’ve got a chance to get away from that, so stand up straight, look the maid in the eye, and nod a greeting like any normal-looking lad would, a lad who’s met a thousand beautiful maids before her..._

I steeled myself to meet her eyes without flinching.

“Which one are you? The archer, or the swordsman?”

“Archer. Kíli. Well met,” I nodded, relieved that my voice didn’t crack or waver.

“You, too,” she nodded back, her expression calm and assessing. That was novel. Maids usually didn’t hide their distaste when they looked at me. She flicked her gaze to my brother. “Then you’re the swordsman.”

Fíli stared at her like he’d been struck with a rock. Oh, Valar; him, too? I’d never seen my confident brother so tongue-tied. If I hadn’t been so stunned, I would’ve laughed at him.

“Um... yes, I’m the swordsman. F-Fíli.”

Yanna gave Fíli a skeptical look. “Do either of you know how to pack a baggage pony?”

She wasn’t rude, just abrupt, and while it was clear that she didn’t expect us to know how to pack a baggage pony, she allowed the possibility to exist. That snapped Fíli out of his stupor and he offered a smile.

“Everyone has a preference. Show us what yours is, and we’ll match it.”

That surprised her. I supposed she’d expected us to bluster our way through it, but we’d both learned it was better to ask first and do the job only once, rather than assume wrongly and have to do it twice. Yanna grunted, but she waved us after her. Her manner was businesslike as she showed us how to set the frame in place on the pony, then rig the baggage atop it. She was strong enough to lift the heavy rig over the pony’s back unassisted, and she heaved the sacks and bags atop it as if she’d done so many times. Fortunately, her rigging was one Fíli and I had seen before, so we did the next one under her critical eye.

“Good,” she pronounced our effort, and nodded towards the other ponies. “The next two, please.”

She stumped off to the barn. I gave Fíli a bemused shrug, which he met with a grimace. We separated to handle the ponies as directed.

It took a while to get eight ponies properly rigged and packed, for Yanna’s critical eye was exacting. But Fíli and I were used to taking pains with ponies to make sure their tack didn’t rub or bind or dig into their flanks, and we knew how to balance a load well enough, and she didn’t make us redo anything. So I supposed we passed muster well enough.

The last four ponies would be our mounts, for Yanna came out with a riding saddle. She thrust it into Fíli’s arms, and nodded with her chin to one of the ponies. “You’ll take Grimble.”

“Yes, lady,” Fíli murmured, giving me a conspiratorial smile. He was back on his feet now, deciding to meet Yanna’s abrupt manner with his usual courteousness. She paid him no attention, but headed back to the barn. When she returned with the second saddle, I was ready for her to push the tack into my arms. “Lissa for you.”

“She’s a good pony, Lissa is,” I ventured. “I like her.”

Yanna looked at me briefly, but only nodded as she went back to the stable. I set the saddle down to check the pony as I’d done before, but she’d been cleaned and brushed already, so by the time Yanna came back, I’d set saddle and bridle in place. As Yanna moved to the third horse, Maamr came to say her farewells.

“I won’t tell you to behave yourselves. You will whether I say so or not, because if you don’t, you’ll get sent home, and neither of you want that. So I’ll just tell you to look out for each other, and come back to me safely when spring comes around again.”

“We will, Maamr,” Fíli said gently, smiling at our mother. “Rest easily on that. You know we’ll honor Durin’s clan as we should.”

He hugged Maamr close for some seconds, knowing how hard it was for her to send both of us off when she didn’t think either of us were old enough. Then he pressed a kiss on her cheek, and gave her to me to bid my farewell.

“We’ll do Clan Durin proud, Maamr,” I said, giving her my own hug. “Don’t worry.”

Maamr held onto my arms to gaze into my eyes for a long moment. “Grow strong, Kíli. Know how much I love you.”

“I know, Maamr. I know. I’m well again, and I’ll be all right. Don’t worry.”

Her lips curved up as she patted my cheek. “All mothers worry, Kíli. But I will do my best to keep it from consuming me. Learn everything Derfrulia teaches you, and come back to me next year with the same light I see in your eyes today.”

My grin was irrepressible. “I will. I love you.”

“And I you, my son.”

She patted my cheek again, then backed away.

Uncle Thorin was still murmuring softly to Fíli, so Dwalin took his leave next. He slapped my arm heartily. “See that ye listen to Derfrulia better than ye do me, scamp,” he glowered, but the corners of his lips curved up the faintest bit. “She’s got my leave to box yer ears in my place if ye give her a whisker of trouble.”

“Yes, sir,” I nodded, an abashed grin on my face. “I thank you for speaking up for me, Master Dwalin. I won’t make you sorry.”

“Ye never have, laddie,” Dwalin said softly. “Ye know what ye’re about with yer bow, and even a sword now and again. Look out for Fíli. That Yanna’s going to give him a right raft of trouble, and that’s no lie. Keep his head on straight for him.”

“Who’s going to keep mine on straight for me?” I blurted.

“Yanna will,” he said bluntly, grinning. “Yanna’s royalty in the horse clans, and she’s not about to fall over a couple of town pups, no matter the clan. Besides, ye ain’t old enough to lose your head over a maid yet, Kíli, and ye ain’t used to maids falling all over themselves for ye the way Fíli is. Treat her as a friend, and ye’ll be all right.”

I snuck a look at the assured Yanna as she brought out another saddle and put in on the back of a spotted pony. I’d never seen a pony with a coat like that, but I said nothing, only nodded at Dwalin. “Yes, sir.”

Dwalin threw his arms around me and nearly squeezed the breath out me with his exuberant embrace. “Go with Mahal’s blessing, laddie, and I’ll see ye hale and hearty next spring.”

“Ooof – yes, sir, I’ll see you next spring,” I managed, as Dwalin let me go. He clapped me on both arms again, and butted my head gently, which meant I staggered only a step or two, before he moved on to Fíli.

“Kíli, I wish you good journey,” Uncle Thorin said formally, offering me his hands. When I took them, he gave me a bow and touched his forehead to mine in the formal manner, but then he pulled me to him and hugged me as hard as Dwalin.

“Look after Maamr for us,” I whispered. “You know how she worries.”

He gave me a near silent chuckle and a knowing smirk. “Aye, she does. And without you and your brother to devil her, she’ll take it out on me. I don’t look forward to that.”

I smothered a gleeful snicker. “Sorry, Uncle. I’m sure you don’t. But I’m sure you’ll manage.”

“Look out for yourself, and your brother. That horse maid, Yanna –”

“Master Dwalin already warned me. We’ll behave.”

“See that you do. Mahal’s blessing on you, lad.”

“And on you, too, Uncle. Goodbye.”

Once my family had said their goodbyes, I saw that Dwalin had tacked up Derfrulia’s pony for her, and Yanna was busy linking two pack ponies to each of the four saddle ponies.

“Said your goodbyes, then, lads?” Derfrulia called to us as Dwalin bridled her pony. “Up with you, then.”

I gave Lissa a pat on the cheek, then climbed into the saddle. As usual, the stirrups were too short for me, so I had to fuss with them, letting them down as far as they’d go. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught surly Master Dwalin offering a kiss to the horse maid – not a politely friendly one, either. In fact, it was a very, very friendly one, indeed.

“Fíl!” I hissed. “Fíl! Oi, Fíli, you doh kro!”

Fíli looked around at me in exasperation, but when I slid my eyes towards Dwalin and Derfrulia, his exasperation melted into wide-eyed incredulity. We traded gleeful looks, but mustered more solemn expressions as Yanna turned her gaze on us. When she passed by, of course, our grins bloomed wide again. Fíli climbed on his pony, actually chuckling, though I managed to stifle mine. Who would have thought our surly arms master regarded anything other than his blades with that intent look in his eyes?

As if Dwalin heard my thoughts, he shot my brother and me a glare. “Have ye got sommat to say to me, lads?” he demanded, his arms akimbo.

Both of us shook our heads vigorously, in perfect innocence. “No, sir. Nothing at all. Other than go with Mahal, of course.”

Fíli’s voice was measured and grave, and his blue eyes were serious and thoughtful. I had to look away to hide my smirk. Fíli’s measured, grave voice and serious, thoughtful blue eyes had screened so much mischief over the years that lightning should have struck him dead. Maybe the only reason it didn’t was because Fíli never lied... though he didn’t tell the whole truth, either. This time was typical – we didn’t have anything we wanted Dwalin to hear, and we did wish him well. We’d laugh ourselves silly later, when we were safe from retaliation.

Dwalin whuffed a growl, hardly mollified, but Derfrulia had a crooked grin. She was a wily one, and Fíli and I would have to be sharp to stay out of her glare. In fact, we’d do well to not risk that glare for a while yet, until we knew how much we could push her. In the meantime, it was time to go.

“Fall in, you scamps,” Derfrulia bade us, but her smile was indulgent. “Dwalin, Dís, Thorin, your lads are going to be an adventure, I can see that already. But I’ll see them through the year, if they see me through the wolves, and we’ll all be the better for it. Mahal’s blessing on you all.”

“And on you!” the chorus came back, and Derfrulia nudged her pony away from the inn. Yanna waved Fíli and me after her mother, and she came behind us. With a final wave and a chorus of goodbyes, we urged our ponies forward, and soon had to turn our backs on teacher, uncle, mother.

I twisted around one last time, and waved wildly to Maamr. She was standing with legs wide planted and arms akimbo, but I would have bet she was crying, even though I couldn’t see the tears. That was Maamr, fierce and tender all at the same time.

I swallowed a lump in my throat as I turned back to follow Fíli, but it was a small lump. I expected I’d feel the separation more in the middle of some dark night, maybe during that snowstorm Fíli had teased me about, but I didn’t now. Our adventure beckoned!

Our short caravan threaded its way past the last of the inns, and looped around back towards the center of town where we’d take the main road east until we were out of the mountains, and then head north for the steppe. Derfrulia had told us that the rest of her clan was north of here, and we’d join them in a couple of days. Then our work would really begin. But for now, we had nothing to do but to mind the ponies we rode and the ones that followed us.

As we passed through the center of Thorin’s Halls, the city seemed different, because I would not be part of it for the next year. I was a nomad for now, with new allegiances and new duties. I knew better than to get cocky about it – the stern maid behind me wouldn’t stand for it, and I had no intention of being called out before everyone in the city. I paid attention to my seat, and didn’t ride up too closely behind my brother’s string, and made sure that my string didn’t try to nibble any of the hay out of a passing wain. We turned down the east road and left the city behind us.

Once the houses and shops were past, we headed towards the outskirts of the city. I breathed a sigh of relief – no more bullies to break my bones and hack my hair for the next year! Just ponies, and goats, and antelopes, and those wolves. I’d do fine with the first three, and the last one –

“Oi, Elf’s son! You, you filthy, bastard no-Dwarf!”

I froze. That was Flor – the same one who’d kicked in half of my ribs. And there was Flin, his cohort, who’d kicked in the other half.

“Let it go, Kíl,” Fíli cautioned quietly from ahead of me. He had his eye on Flin, so I kept watch on Flar.

“Course,” I replied just as quietly. “Just fart gas.”

Did I hear a smothered chuckle from the maid behind me?

“Oi, you fucking maggot! Too cowardly to speak, or too weak?” Flor taunted.

“What did you expect?” Flin returned. “Animals can’t talk to begin with, and that slant-eyed Elf’s get is so scared he’s shitting his trews.”

I’d heard this so often that it barely registered anymore. I was more ashamed of Derfrulia and Yanna hearing it for the first time. That was enough to make me gulp.

“Maybe he’s gone deaf, too, so he can’t hear you, Flin,” Flor called. “So I’ll tell the get’s bastard brother that they’re both nothing but pony shit.”

“Let it go, Fíl,” I offered my brother the same advice he’d given me. “Nothing but mouth.”

“Mouths full of fart gas,” Fíli agreed.

We’d kept riding through the insulting barrage, and the pair of louts hadn’t come after us, so I breathed easier, thinking we were past the annoyance. But Lissa bucked, whinnying in outrage – a rock had stung her hindquarters, and more were flying towards the other ponies. That was not to be borne. I slid off Lissa and thrust her reins at Yanna. Ahead of me, Fíli had already done the same thing, giving his reins to Derfrulia. Then the pair of us sprinted after the bullies. Fíli barreled full force into Flor, knocking him to the path with brutal force. I launched a flying kick to Flin’s chest, tumbling him backwards. I hauled him to his feet and punched him hard, not in the least way sorry when his nose exploded into a bloody mess. I punched him a second time to give him a black eye to go with his broken nose, then let him drop.

“ _Skator-u, nar thos_!” I spat. I got an epithet in reply, which wasn’t worth the effort to answer, so I ignored it and looked for Fíli, to see if he needed help. Flin cursed again and tried to pull a knife out of his belt, so I turned back to him, kicked his ribs, and pulled away his knife when he doubled up. I threw the blade away as far as I could. When the louse stayed sprawled in the path, I backed away until I was out of range. Fíli had handled Flor with equal efficiency, so we backed away from the pair shoulder to shoulder until we found ourselves beside the ponies again. I took my reins back from Yanna with a curt word of thanks. As Fíli passed me, he held up his forearm, and I tapped it with mine. That was our ritual when we finished a battle together.

“Well done, lads,” Derfrulia said quietly, as she handed Fíli his reins.

I made sure Lissa’s flank wasn’t bleeding before I led her back to our place in line. As I remounted, I met Fíli’s eyes. The glitter of battle was fading, but he gave me a satisfied smile. I felt the same expression stretching my lips, and I nodded to him as we got underway again.

It was a fitting way to leave Thorin’s Halls. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli and Kíli begin their journey out to the steppes. Just what will the next year be like? Derfrulia is glad to begin their education as they ride.
> 
> The mysterious Yanna remains just that - mysterious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> berch = daughter (Khazuduhl)

The horse maids didn’t linger once Kíli and I had dealt with the bullies, but set a brisk trot away from Thorin’s Halls and east, out of the foothills of the Blue Mountains. I expected that they’d head northeast, around the source of the Little Lhûn River once we got out of town, and soon enough they proved me right. I settled in for the ride, enjoying the sun on my face, the slight breeze in my hair, and the sense of anticipation. I might have teased Kíli about how excited he was, but I was no less so; I just covered it better than my exuberant little brother.

Something else contented me as we left Thorin’s Halls behind. I was proud of how Kíli and I had left the city, with honor. Neither of us had risen to Flin and Flor’s taunting, and neither of us had disgraced ourselves in front of the two maids who’d hired us. We would have stayed silently in our saddles if the bullies hadn’t decided to menace the ponies, but when they had, we had two reasons to strike back. Neither Kíli nor I countenanced cruelty to an animal, nor would we stand by when those who’d hired us had their animals threatened. I’d piled into Flor like a Dwarvish battle chariot, hitting him so hard that he could only wheeze for breath once I hammered him to the ground. A kick to his knee had doubled him up in agony, so I’d turned away to see if Kíli needed help. My brother didn’t have my bulk, but he was fast and agile as he’d kicked Flin flat, bloodied his nose, and blackened his eye with devastating precision. His snarled Orcish insult would have made Dwalin proud, and the fire in his eyes as he dispatched Flin’s knife would have had Uncle dreaming of retaking Erebor. We’d backed off as soon as it was clear that neither Flor nor Flin had any fight left, celebrating with our usual arm salute, and then went back to the business of shepherding ponies without a fuss.

Kíli’s eyes were still flashing as we resumed our way, and he nodded to me as if to say that was that. I nodded back, equally satisfied. It was good to see my brother with his head held high and confidence in his step again. At times like these, he did have a faint air of something not quite Dwarvish about him, something more elegant and primal, and I wondered anew if the epithets were true about our father. But Kíli and I looked so much alike, and I was nothing but Dwarvish, so there couldn’t be any truth to the insults. Even if there had been, it wouldn’t have mattered to me. Kíli was the best brother anyone could have, and never more so than today. Even that self-possessed maid, Yanna, had been surprised at Kíli’s assurance when he’d taken back his pony’s reins, considering him with a deep stare that Kíli either didn’t see or chose to ignore. Taking all of this in was Derfrulia, who sat atop her pony without interfering, but I appreciated her untroubled smile when she handed my pony’s reins back to me.

Neither of the maids spoke about the bullies as we went on, so once we’d settled back to the path, I had time to consider Yanna. Mahal, she was a beauty! That chestnut hair was magnificent, and those hazel eyes... that milkmaid Kíli had teased me about was washed out in comparison. Yanna was strong, she was light on her feet, she had the most bewitching fringe of beard to veil her jaw in mystery... I couldn’t even think about the familiar, assured way she sat her pony without my cock wanting to sit up and take notice. I squelched that fast enough. Even I knew that it was fatal to think about dalliances with the daughter of a lad’s master, and doubly so when the master was a clan leader. I sharpened my eyes on the scenery, and steadfastly did not think about those delightful silver bells in her braids that chimed so brightly, or the lovely silver rings in her delicate ears...

_The scenery, fool. Stick to the scenery!_

By the time I got myself in hand, our train was well away from Thorin’s Halls. We skirted the small spring that was the source of the Little Lhûn, which ran more or less due east to eventually join the bigger River Lhûn for its run south past the Grey Havens. I’d never been so far south as to see the great city of the Teleri Elves. It was said that the great harbors there were shelter to the largest and most magnificent ships ever seen in Middle Earth. Not only was it a great fishing port, but also the launching point for all the Elves who Sailed west over the sea. Why they wanted to leave Middle Earth... having never met an Elf, and never expecting to, I supposed I’d never find one to explain it to me. This land was more than good enough for me.

My folk had come to this far western part of Middle Earth only a few decades ago. All Dwarves knew the old tales about Erebor and the firedrake and wandering for years. A lot of my elders still pined over the loss. But I’d never seen far-off Erebor. To be honest, I never expected to. My home was the Blue Mountains, and while it was not full of palaces and riches beyond belief, my mother and uncle had made a good life for us. Kíli and I were learning to be good warriors and smiths, and I liked it here.

The only dark spot was the bullies who plagued Kíli. He wasn’t the handsomest, to be sure. He was awkward until you put a bow, a sword, or a hammer in his hand, when he turned into something amazing. He was tongue-tied outside of family most of the time. But at the same time, he was honest and trustworthy and a hard worker. Some days I hated my folk for being so hostile to anyone who looked or acted differently. Kíli wasn’t the only one; there was a maid in Thorin’s Hills who had a clubfoot and a limp. Esmal was sweet and bright, and a nimble weaver, but even though Dwarves had so few maids, many said cruel words about her. Once Kíli had heard some oldster snark about what good fortune it was that Esmal was a maid, because a clubfoot wouldn’t keep her from being bred, if anyone was desperate enough to risk making a bairn with the same deformity. My little brother was incensed, and would have risked a public flogging if he’d struck the oldster as he deserved. As it was, it was two days before he calmed down. When I’d asked him why he was so angry, he’d said that Esmal was worth being angry for all on her own. But there had been more to it than that. When I'd pressed, Kíli had looked away.

“The way I look? I’m not even worth breeding, to his lights. He’d drown me, if he had his choice. I’ve heard him say it.”

Kíli was right. That oldster had said that, more than once, even though he insulted Uncle Thorin to say it, even though I was within earshot. Dwarves were thought to be so fierce and unforgiving to our enemies. But we could be just as intolerant of our own, too.

Those cynical thoughts made me glad to be away from the city. I hoped the horse clans would be less critical about things that didn’t matter. Kíli was a stellar archer, and he’d show that soon enough. I hoped it would be enough to grant him a little peace about something he could do nothing about.

I turned around to reassure myself that my brother was in good spirits, and he rewarded me with a wide smile. He was happily taking in the scenery, and watching out for his ponies. I grinned back before I turned forward again. So far, so good.

We followed Derfrulia until the sun was straight above, and Thorin’s Halls was well behind. We were still under the trees that clothed the mountains at our backs, but they hadn’t leafed out enough yet to cast much shadow. We alit for a quick luncheon beside the northern bank of the Little Lhûn. Kíli and I were comfortable in the saddle, but it still felt good to climb down for a stretch. First Derfrulia moved off to tend to necessities, then Yanna. When both were done, Derfrulia waved at me.

“Off you go, then, Fíli. When you’re done, then you go, Kíli. There are just the dozen ponies, but it’s good to get you into our habit from the start. We don’t leave our stock untended even to piss.”

“Yes, lady,” I nodded, handing my reins to Kíli as I’d seen the maids do, and went off to find a screening tree. Kíli took his turn while I held our ponies, and by the time he got back, Yanna had hobbles for our mounts. Kíli and I had used these before, so once we set them on our ponies, we were free to walk about a bit. Kíli took his duties overly seriously, and checked the ponies in our strings carefully, making sure they were comfortable. I could be responsible, too, so kept one eye on the scenery, in case something untoward appeared.

“What’s her name, Miss?” Kíli asked softly.

I twisted around in surprise. Kíli stood by Yanna’s unusual spotted pony, stroking her coat. He wasn’t looking at the maid, and his voice was barely audible, but even that was unusual. My brother was especially mute around maids, partly because he was too young to know much about dealings with them, but mostly because they considered him to be so ugly and weren’t shy about carping to him about it. He took pains to appear silent and invisible, so as not to draw their attention.

Yanna stood by one of the ponies in her string, rooting through its pack. Kíli’s regard was for the pony, so didn’t see the sharp look she gave him. “Shar,” she said shortly, as she pulled out a packet.

Kíli whispered the name to the pony, smiling when her ears pricked up at him. He rubbed her nose playfully. “I’ve never seen a pony with a spotted coat before. Are there a lot of them?”

“Not yet. I’m still working on how to get the coat to breed true.”

My eyebrows went up. “You breed for the spots? Is it through the stud or the dam?”

Yanna skewered me with the same penetrating stare that she’d turned on Kíli, but I met it without challenge. “I don’t know yet. Her sire, Targi, has the spots, but none of the dams do, including Shar’s. But so far Shar is the only pony with spots. Her dam’s ripe with another from Targi, so come another week or so, we’ll know whether Shar’s sib has spots or not.”

“That’s Yanna’s favorite project,” Derfrulia chuckled, coming to take the rations that Yanna doled out to us from her packet. It was squares of tough jerked meat, small apples, and small loaves of heavy dark bread. “She’s had offers to sell Shar for twice what any other pony would bring, so if she can sort out how to breed more of them, Clan Kahgli would benefit. Water skin’s over there, lads.”

I had a deep swig, and passed it to Kíli, who followed suit. Then Derfrulia indicated that we should sit with her and Yanna to eat.

“Cold rations now, but we’ll have something hot for supper. I want to keep on our way as much as we can today, so that we meet the rest of the clan before nightfall tomorrow. Then we’ll settle the two of you in. So, tell me about yourselves. It’s clear you’ve spent a lot of time with Master Dwalin. You fight well for ones so young.”

Kíli looked to me, so I spoke for both of us, telling the horse maids a little about life in Thorin’s Halls and our studies. But I didn’t say too much, because Kíli was looking at me with an anxious look on his face. Unusually, I couldn’t divine what he wanted me to say, so I fell silent, hoping he’d speak up for himself. But it was only when Derfrulia posed a question to him that he ventured a word.

“You share the same studies, Kíli?”

Kíli swallowed his mouthful of bread with a gulp. “I do, Lady. Except with Master Dwalin. I have to spend more time on sparring than Fíli, because he’s better at that than I am. He spends more time on the bow because I’m better at that. But...”

“Yes?” Derfrulia encouraged.

“I’d like to know about your clan. What you do all day, and what Fíli and I will do. What kind of herds you have, and how many there are, and about the wolves I’m supposed to shoot. Everything.”

Derfrulia laughed, but it was a pleased laugh, not a mocking one. “Eager to learn, are you? I like that. There’s many a thing to learn about life with us, and you’ll not learn it all in a week, or even a year. But you’ve both got your eyes open, and you’ll learn well in time. First, though, now that we’re away from the settled folk, you can drop the Lady and the Miss. We don’t show our status that way. The only titles we use are for head dam or sire of the clan. For Clan Kahgli, it’s Derfrulia for me – Khazuduhl for Horse Mistress, as you likely know. We’re one of the few matriarchal clans, so we don’t have a sire. Yanna’s next in line, as my granddaughter. Her title would be Derfruliberch, Horse Mistress’s Daughter, but we don’t use that unless we want to impress someone unpleasant.”

Derfrulia went on a little longer, telling us that that her clan had herds scattered across the land north of the Little Lhûn and east of the northernmost Blue Mountains. For the most part, her clan stayed west of the upper River Lhûn, though in some milder years they’d ventured further north and east to take advantage of the wider pastures. Clan Kahgli was currently the biggest nomad family shepherding ponies, horses, and goats – the long coats of the latter were what ended up making the special blankets Maamr had bought for Kíli and me. Yanna’s mother had been Derfrulia’s oldest daughter, but she’d had three other bairns, all of them lads. Given the ways of Clan Kahgli, the sons couldn’t inherit Derfrulia’s holdings, only Yanna could as she was the only bairn of Derfrulia’s daughter. I didn’t expect that clan inheritance rules would matter much to Kíli or me, but as enough of that drabble had been pounded into my head as Uncle Thorin’s heir, I registered it as I would anything else. What was more interesting to me was what the horse clan did all day, as Kíli had phrased it.

Derfrulia urged us back on our ponies, so that we’d continue on our way as she talked. She directed me to one side of her and Kíli on the other, so that we’d hear her as she spoke. Yanna ranged behind us as we listened to her grandmother.

Wolves, we learned, hunted mostly at night. They weren’t surprise hunters, jumping out at a pony to scare it into falling under a pack’s teeth. They were endurance hunters. They’d follow a herd all day, pick out the one or two animals they thought would be easy prey, and try to wear it out by harassing it so that it was easier to bring down. Wolves had only their paws to carry them patiently after prey, and only their teeth to bring that prey down. So during the day, the wolf hunters’ task was to scout for the wolves and keep them from being interested in the herd by chasing them off, or disrupting their tracking. This often encouraged the wolves to seek the easier prey, which were the thousands of antelope grazing the steppe around the herd. Last year, the herds of antelope had surged, and the wolves had had plenty of meat to keep them healthy. Some of the packs were breeding their secondary females as well as their primaries, something I’d never heard of. That had produced more litters of pups, which had grown into hungry adults, and that was why Derfrulia wanted more wolf hunters in her herders.

The wolf hunters’ real work started at dusk, when the wolves stopped dallying and got down to finding a meal. How did you stop a determined pack of wolves from taking a pony or wool goat, or even one of the bigger horses, when it was so dark out that Dwarvish eyes couldn’t see anything?

The clans were smart. They knew that wolves didn’t like Dwarves, were almost afraid of us. Maybe they recognized a fellow predator. They didn’t like fire, either. So during breeding season, a lot of effort went into finding mother animals and their young and penning them for a few days until the little ones found their legs. This gave us something in a confined space to guard at night, and fires around the pen told the wolves what to avoid. After the young were out of the pen, most of the clan circulated throughout the herd to make our presence known, which also told the wolves what to avoid.

“So... when do you shoot the wolves?” Kíli asked, frowning. “Not during the night, surely? You’d stand as much chance of skewering a pony or a Dwarf as a wolf.”

“Truly spoken,” Derfrulia nodded approvingly. “When you range through the herd during the day, you shoot anything that threatens a herd animal. Even if the animal’s weak or sickly, we don’t want the wolves to get a taste for ponies, horses, or goats. That takes meat out of our stewpot, to be honest, as that's where stock goes that isn’t strong enough to keep up with the herd. Night’s the harder duty, tending the pens, or ranging in the dark. We’ve got long pikes to help with that, and you’ve got blades, though it’s risky to tackle a wolf with a knife unless you have to.”

There was a lot more discussion, all of it interesting and important. I was pleased to see Kíli speak up more, without diffidence, because this was his job, and he wanted to do well at it. This didn’t surprise me; Kíli might be shy around folk most of the time, and with reason. But on the training ground, even against Master Dwalin, he was a stout and confident fighter. He was just as assured at the forge, even though both of us had years to go before we were master smiths. He had a good feel for the metal, and his long, slender fingers let him do fine work more easily than mine did. I was better at the heavier stuff, but together we’d made some nice pieces.

We spent the afternoon learning the basics of what we would do once we reached the herd and the rest of Derfrulia’s clan. We didn’t yet know how many Dwarves made up her crew yet, or who they were or what each one did, or how we sorted such things out. But as the afternoon waned and we began to look for a suitable place to stop for the night, I was well satisfied. So far, everything we’d be asked to do sounded like something Kíli and I would learn in time. I’d work hard to learn as quickly as I could, so that we’d be found fit after our month-long trial, and become full members of the working crew.

I had never been one to take on work casually. For years, Uncle Thorin, Maamr, and Master Dwalin had instilled the importance of doing my duty as best I could. So I wanted to do well to do myself as well as my clan honor. But this time, I had even more incentive to do well. I wanted Kíli to have the best shot at a better life. Even if we were out in the middle of the northern steppes, that was better than anywhere that put my brother at risk.

If we never went home again to Thorin’s Halls, it wouldn’t matter to me, as long as Kíli was safe from our own kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just got my copy of the Extended Edition BotFA today, so you know what I'll be doing tonight. Sobbing my eyes out.... :-((((((


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Brothers Durin begin their lessons about the ways of Clan Kaghli, though they're vastly different. While Kíli learns about ponies and wolves, Fíli learns about an entirely different kind of dance. The result is that one brother finds the potential for peace, while the other sees potential for concern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> ceigeach = long-haired sheep  
> ìm = butter  
> makk aln ha'ak = son of a bitch

Fíli and I rode beside Derfrulia for the rest of the afternoon, making good time under the thinning trees. We didn’t venture out from under them completely, so our path was more north than east as the sun climbed down from its highest mark. When dusk approached, Yanna moved ahead to look for a good place to stop for the night. This was good country, and she found a nice campsite near the river so we’d have plenty of water for supper and drinking. Her grandmother collected firewood and got a blaze going while Yanna took Fíli and me in hand to see to the ponies. We piled the baggage up to make comfortable places to rest around the fire, and then saw to the ponies’ coats and hooves. Once they were clean and dry from the day’s efforts, each of us led two of them at a time to the river to drink, then we set the hobbles so they could graze without straying too far. Yanna climbed atop her spotted pony to sit a comfortable watch while her grandmother got Fíli to help her set up a big kettle over her fire. I fetched one thing or another from the baggage as she directed me, and soon she had a stew going.

“This’ll cook for an hour or two, lads, so take your ease for a bit. We’ll set a watch tonight, so none of us will get a full night’s rest until we join the rest of the clan. Nap now, if you can.”

“Yes, La – I mean, Derfrulia,” I replied. Maamr would have rolled her eyes. She thought I didn’t listen to her constant harping about manners, but I did, so dispensing with terms of respect wasn’t something that came easily. Admittedly, it was fun to tease Maamr into thinking I didn’t listen, then dart away chortling when her eyes flashed and she raised that meat fork...

It was warm enough, so I didn’t need to pull out my blankets to rest. I moved into the trees to take care of necessities, grinning at my brother when he came beside me to do the same thing.

“What do you think so far?” I whispered.

“It’s been a day already, and it’s not over yet,” Fíli replied, smiling.

“Can you believe Master Dwalin? He was _kissing_ a maid!”

Fíli’s expression dissolved into hilarity. “Valar, Kíli, I thought I’d burst trying not to laugh! And when he turned that glare on us, it was –”

“I know!” I laughed, trying to be quiet, but not doing a good job of it. I snuck a quick glance behind us to see if either of the horse maids was looking at us. “ _Dahaut_ , you could have knocked me over with a _kurvanog_ feather! Thank Mahal that you pulled out your best serious-and-considered look in time, Fíl. That saved us.”

Fíli grinned in mischief. “Oh and oh, we were safe from the start, Kíl. He wouldn’t have wanted to look vicious in front of the maids, would he?”

“ _Skator_ , he would, doh kro – he’s Master Dwalin! As for vicious, you gave Flor something to think about, you did. You knocked him halfway to Erebor when you took him down.”

“He earned it. Flin, too. He was a stupid _makk aln ha’ak_ to go up against you single-handed. Hope it takes a month for his nose to heal crooked.”

“It felt good to have an even fight for once.”

Fíli shot me a look as he buckled his belt, then shook his head, smiling, and put a hand on my shoulder. “It wasn’t close to an even fight, brother. You handed Flin his arse on a platter. With relish.”

I snickered at the pun. “Don’t mention food. I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” Fíli snorted, but his smile for me was proud. “Come on. We’d better get that nap while we can.”

I leaned closer to whisper. “I haven’t taken a nap in the afternoon since I was six.”

“Ten,” Fíli countered.

“Six, doh kro.”

“Ten. Because I was taking the nap next to you at fifteen,” Fíli poked me hard in the ribs.

I snickered. “Maybe I have taken a few since I was ten. But I’m too excited to sleep now.”

“You won’t be tonight when we have to watch the ponies. So sleep now.”

“Yes, Maamr,” I teased, but softly. Fíli snorted back, then we shared a snicker as we walked back to the baggage. I found a comfortable sack of something to prop my head upon, and Fíli did likewise next to me. In truth, I _was_ excited, and wanted to see what Yanna was up to, and what Derfrulia did, and what was going into the kettle, but my wiggling finally got to be too much for Fíli. He kicked my foot and sent me a quelling look. I made a face at him, but settled as best I could. I shut my eyes, willed my breath to deepen, and thought only about the green smell of the grass...

“Stew’s hot, Fíli. Come get your bowl before you wake your brother.”

“That’s the only way to get a full bowl around Kíli – get there first.”

I blinked. It was nearly full dusk, and the fire under Derfrulia’s kettle glowed a shifting red and gold. Steam and a meaty aroma rose from the kettle, making my mouth water. I grinned in chagrin; clearly, I hadn’t had nearly the trouble falling asleep that I’d expected. I sat up quickly, and found Derfrulia ladling out hot stew into the bowl that Fíli held out. My brother caught the movement, and tsked.

“See? Look at him. Waft the smell of anything edible under his nose, and he’s front and center.”

I scrambled to my feet. I didn’t see Yanna, so she must still be watching the ponies. I was very hungry – Fíli was right that I was almost always very hungry – but I didn’t need Derfrulia to think that all I thought about was my stomach. I made much of stretching, then rubbed my hands together.

“Smells good, that. Do you want me to bring a bowl of it to Yanna, Derfrulia, or has she already eaten?”

Fíli made a face at me, but I kept my face straight as Derfrulia chuckled. “You come have your supper, Kíli, then you and I will see to the ponies while Yanna has hers. So see that you leave her some.”

“Good luck with that,” Fíli said under his breath, bringing his bowl to his lips to sip the broth.

“Yes, Derfrulia,” I said primly to tease my brother. I took up one of the bowls that Derfrulia had laid by the fire, and held it out for the horse maid to fill. The kettle held enough soup to feed six Dwarves with my appetite, so no one would have to stint. There was also a huge slab of flatbread baking on an iron griddle, a bag of dried fruit, and a steaming teapot. The stew going into my bowl was rich, and I sat by the fire to savor it. There were no spoons, so I did as Fíli had, sipping the thick broth until I could pick the bits of meat and roots out with my fingers to munch. I had five bowls before I was full, but as long as Derfrulia doled out the food, I was happy to eat it. There was no honey or butter for the chewy flatbread, but that didn’t matter – it was just the thing to mop the last of the broth out of my bowl. The dried fruits were mostly apples and something stickier and sweeter, but both were delicious. All I needed to fill up the corners was a few cups of tea. The horse maid had already set out a small tray of small cups without handles, so once she poured herself a cup, she passed me the rag that I’d use to keep the hot metal handle of the teapot from burning my hands.

“The _ceigeach ìm_ is in the crock on the tray,” Derfrulia directed, sipping from her cup as I poured Fíli’s and my cups full.

I looked up. “The what?”

“ _Ceigeach ìm_. It’s a special butter made from our wool goats.”

I looked at Fíli, but he didn’t have any idea what to do with the butter, either. When I looked to see if Derfrulia played a joke on me, I discovered her scooping some of the butter out with her boot knife, putting it in her cup, and pouring fresh tea atop it. My eyes widened.

“You put the butter in the tea?” Fíli asked, just as surprised as I was.

Derfrulia laughed. “We certainly do. It makes it rich, just like when you put cream in it in your mother’s kitchen. Out on the grass, cream can turn as fast as you get it out of the dam, especially during the summer. Butter lasts longer, and it’s easier to carry.”

“No sugar?” I asked plaintively.

“Honey, mostly,” she replied kindly. “You have a sweet tooth, then?”

I’d been known to eat more sugar on my porridge than porridge, but thankfully Fíli didn’t blab about that. “Some,” I admitted, ignoring Fíli when he snickered.

“The way we do it is to put some of the butter in the cup,” Derfrulia explained. “Then we pour the tea over it. It melts little by little as you add more tea. It might not seem like much at first, but it adds silkiness to our bitter tea. You’ll appreciate it more when you’ve stood your first winter night watch.”

Fíli and I put blobs of the butter in our teacups. It melted quickly in the hot liquid, so I blew on it before I tried a sip. Derfrulia was right; the tea was much bitterer than I was used to, and the butter didn’t taste anything like the cream Maamr put in our chai. This was oilier, which didn’t help the bitterness, to my lights. I didn’t like it, but I sipped a few cups of it anyway. I expected I’d have to drink an awful lot of it over the next year, so I might as well get used to it.

“Full for a bit then, Kíli?”

“Yes, Derfrulia,” I replied.

“Good. You and I will take our turn out on watch, then, and let Yanna come take her supper. Fíli, Yanna will show you what needs doing to clean up once she’s eaten. We don’t leave food out but the stew when there’s so few of us on watch. Attracts too many noses, it does.”

“All right,” Fíli agreed.

Fíli sat back on his heels by the fire to wait for Yanna, so Derfrulia beckoned me after her away from the fire. Her voice dropped to a low murmur as we got away from the firelight and found Yanna to relieve her. Once the maid took herself off to supper, I stood with Derfrulia for a few moments, looking out away from the trees, as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. She kept up a steady stream of words, all of them lessons just as important as anything I’d learned back in Thorin’s Halls. Some were obvious, such as once my eyes adjusted to the dark, take care not to look back into the fire, which would steal my night vision. Most were things I didn’t know, such as how to picket the ponies so they stayed near but weren’t so hobbled that they were easy prey for wolves. She told me that ponies liked soft humming, and would often come up to me for a rub once they got used to me. She told me what to listen for out in the dark, and how to keep track of the other herders, and how to circulate through the herd. She also told me what wolves sounded like in the night when they went after an animal.

The most important thing she told me was about the working ponies, and how they worked with their riders to move through the herd quickly without running into anything. Herders soon learned which ponies they worked best with, and which ones were better left to others. There were so many ponies that each herder had plenty to choose from, and built up a string of anywhere from six to a dozen for his or her exclusive use. Of course, those ponies could be sold each year with others from the herds as herders came and went, but a herder who was part of the family or on a long-time contract often kept their string for as long as the ponies were able.

The surprising thing that she told me was about the difference between herders and hunters. I thought Fíli and I had been hired as herders who hunted wolves, and some days we might do that. But primarily we’d be wolf hunters who sometimes herded. Our first responsibility would be to protect against those long-legged predators. She hinted that the clan had first rate ways to help us with that, but she refused to say more now, telling me that we had to reach the clan camp before that secret would be revealed. I was wildly curious about this mystery, but I had to accept her reticence, and schooled myself mightily to be patient.

All this knowledge came to me in a soft whisper in the middle of the dark as we walked among the ponies, offering a pat here, or a hummed tune there. This was not learning as I’d experienced before, yet the horse maid’s quiet, disembodied voice was freeing. Because there was no one to look at, or to look at me, it was as if Derfrulia were an impersonal oracle with the patience of the ages no matter what I asked, and so I asked anything and everything. As the stars came out above me, with the quiet hiss of the campfire behind me, with the smell of trampled spring grass and wood smoke in my nostrils, I didn’t think about being ugly, or awkward. It was peaceful, the ponies offered welcoming snuffles, and the horse maid’s voice was kind.

If I never went back to Thorin’s Halls, I wouldn’t miss it. Not after tonight.

 

* * *

 

Shortly after Kíli followed Derfrulia out to see to the ponies, Yanna appeared by the campfire to take her supper. She moved almost silently, but it was an unstudied, long-standing habit. I took up the last empty bowl and scooped it full of stew and held it out to her. She gave me a considering look as she took the bowl, and for a moment I thought she’d speak. But she settled by the fire to eat her meal in silence.

“Bread?” I asked, and took up the remaining chunk of flatbread to hold it out to her. She broke off a hefty piece to dip in her stew, but still didn’t speak.

“Your grandmother’s a good cook,” I coaxed.

She nodded, chewing. “Aye.”

“Both the stew and the flatbread.”

“Aye,” she repeated.

I grinned at the skepticism in Yanna’s voice. “And you want me to shut up and let you eat your supper in peace.”

Her expression didn’t seem to change one way or another in the firelight, but her regard was steady. “And you have reason for me to talk.”

“I do,” I agreed.

“What reason is that?”

“You keep staring at me, as if you want to ask me something. I’m a curious Dwarf, so of course you have me wondering. What is it?”

She thought about that as she chewed and swallowed. “You’re direct.”

I nodded. “I am.”

“Are you blunt, too?”

I arched an eyebrow. “I like to think that I’m not rude, or cruel, or nosy. But I do like to know where I stand with folk.”

Yanna spooned up her stew. After she swallowed, she cocked her head in acceptance of my reply. “I am also curious, and I wonder about many things, too. So I wonder why two very young Dwarves, the only heirs of their clan, have contracted with Clan Kahgli for a year as wolf hunters.”

I thought about claiming the urge for adventure, or wanting to see the world, or liking ponies. But she was the heir to her clan, just as I was to mine, and given her forthright acknowledgement of clan matters, I knew better than to try to bluff that way. My clan wasn’t as poor as some, but it was far from wealthy. Uncle Thorin was never at home because he had to make a living for us, and he did so mostly as an itinerant smith. Kíli and I were technically his heirs, but that likely meant that we’d inherit only his smithing tools and maybe Maamr’s house a couple of hundred years from now, if then. Yanna’s clan was much more prominent and prosperous, so these matters were not trivial to her.

“You saw the reason this afternoon,” I said simply.

The maid spooned up more of her stew, and bit off a mouthful of flatbread. “Your brother.”

I nodded.

“Vermin have set on him before, then. How badly?”

My jaw tightened. “Badly enough.”

“Just because he’s ugly?”

I bridled at her blunt assessment, but I swallowed my resentment and kept my voice even and soft. “I’d hoped to start our acquaintance on more cordial terms.”

“That’s what the town Dwarves say about him, yes?”

My jaw tightened again. “More fools they. He’s smart and quick and strong, and he’s the best brother I could ask for, no matter what other folk think of his looks.”

Yanna didn’t react to the edge in my tone. “You needed to get Kíli away from Thorin’s Halls before the town Dwarves killed him.”

I swallowed hard, and nodded.

“So why are you here, when it’s Kíli who needs to get away?”

I looked up at Yanna in surprise. “Do you have any sibs? Brothers or sisters?”

She shook her head.

I hummed. “Then you wouldn’t understand. Kíli and I are brothers. We belong together. A year apart would be... I can’t even imagine what it would be for either of us, missing each other. It’s said that the horse clans value skills and the measure of a Dwarf more than what he looks like. Kíli’s a better archer than most, and he’s good with ponies – any animals, really – so a year’s contract gave him the chance to find a better place for himself. He’ll do a good job for your clan.”

“Will you?”

I finally looked at the maid with a smile. “Of course I will. I’m not the archer Kíli is, but I’m more than competent, and I’m good with ponies, too. I wouldn’t have offered contract with Derfrulia if I didn’t mean to keep my part of it.”

“What about your clan status?”

“What about it?” I asked, puzzled more than challenging.

“You’re the heir of Clan Durin, yes?”

I shrugged. “Yes. What does that matter to how good a wolf hunter I am for Clan Kahgli?”

For the first time, Yanna looked bemused, almost as if I spoke an unfamiliar language, for all that my words were ones she recognized. “Does your clan send you here to make alliance?”

My jaw dropped a bit, and my eyes widened. Clan alliance? That was a euphemism for treaty by marriage. Abruptly, the arcane drivel that Uncle Thorin, and more often Dwalin’s brother Balin, had pounded into my head rearranged itself to become something real and concrete. The reason why this horse maid grilled me so relentlessly and so bluntly was because she was an heir, too, and...

_Oh, Valar._

Yanna wanted to know if her grandmother and my uncle were trying to align our clans through the two of us. Or, given all the questions she’d asked about Kíli, maybe she thought it was Kíli who was being offered up. I sat back and didn’t know whether to laugh or curse. So I did a bit of both.

“Why do you laugh?” Yanna said sharply.

“I just figured out why we’re having this conversation,” I replied with a wry smile. “I apologize for not understanding sooner. You want to know whether my clan seeks formal ties with yours, and whether it’s me or Kíli who’s to be sacrificed.”

“Sacrificed?” For the first time, Yanna’s tone was indignant. It made me laugh, which wouldn’t help anything, so I tried to smother my amusement quickly. “Is that what you think –”

“Stop, maid, stop,” I held up my hands. “Before we get into a spat about my choice of words, let me tell you what I finally understand you to be asking. My clan did not send Kíli or me here to make a marriage alliance with your clan. My clan is poor, and the myths about what our birthright might be a long time from now holds no value for other clans, so we wouldn’t bring much to an alliance with anyone. The truth is that vermin almost killed my brother, and he needed to be out of harms’ way, with folk who valued him more than our own did. Your clan offered a better future, at least for the next year, anyway. I’m here because we would not be separated. That’s the whole of it.”

Yanna put down her bowl, but the gesture seemed to be more to let her look away from me than anything else. She sighed as she shook her head.

“Vermin have been after you, too,” I guessed. She shot me a surprised look, so I held up my hands. “Oh, not the same kind who’ve been after Kíli, though both of them are after power. Kíli’s vermin are just bullies who want someone weaker to pick on, someone to be better than. Your vermin want to claim your clan’s riches for themselves by making a marriage alliance. They’re still both vermin.”

“Aye, they are.” Yanna’s sigh was heartfelt, and for the first time she relaxed the tiniest bit of her wary demeanor. “They very much are.”

I nodded. “I’m young enough that I’ve avoided that so far, though I expect I’ll attract the same unwanted attention sooner or later. So I appreciate your problem, and assure you that neither Kíli nor I are here to add to it. I’m here to save my brother’s life, that’s all.”

Yanna eyed me as she dipped a blob of the _ceigeach ìm_ into her cup and poured tea over it. “Not to guard our stock?”

I shrugged. “Of course that’s what I’m here to do, and I will, as best as I’m able. So will Kíli. But it’s only fair to warn you that if I have to choose between one of your goats and my brother, your goat will come second.”

A pale smile touched the lips of the horse maid. “Aye, I can live with that. I thank you for your honesty.”

I grinned. “You’re welcome to it. Clan Durin may not be wealthy, but we’ve got honesty to spare.”

Yanna grinned back. “A rare commodity, honesty. I’ll take it over gold any day.”

“If that’s the case, then I’m a font of riches. But not knowledge. Derfrulia said you’d tell me what needs stowing and cleaning once you’re through your supper, so as not to give the foxes and mice something to wish for during the night.”

Yanna relaxed a bit more as she showed me how to sand out the bowls and rinse them clean, then repack the flour and leavening and butter. I put the lid on the stewpot and pushed it to the side of the fire to stay warm in the embers. Whatever hungry herdsmen didn’t eat during the night would be breakfast in the morn. We collected more wood to keep a low fire going during the night, then we set out blankets for sleeping. We talked quietly for a few more minutes about tomorrow’s journey, then we took to our blankets. We’d both be up well before dawn to watch the ponies while Derfrulia and Kíli rested.

As I rolled myself in my blankets and shut my eyes, I considered the glimpse Yanna had given me of horse clan concerns. Balin had said often enough that clans spent more time poring over their lineages and alliances than horse breeders spent plotting the best sires and dams for their stock. That would be doubly true of a horse clan.

I was sorry that Yanna already knew the reality of such jockeying. I’d warn Kíli in the morn, because I didn’t want that jockeying to include either of us. We were here to herd stock, not become stock ourselves.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli and Kíli each get a crash course in the basics of clan life as they shepherd their ponies from Thorin's Halls. While Derfrulia eases Kíli into his new life, Fiíi's musings help him understand Yanna's standoffishness. Before long, however, they'll see the reality behind the stories.

The night was half over before Derfrulia took us back to the campfire for our night’s rest, but I wasn’t sleepy. Yes, it had been a long day, and yes, the night had stretched long and dark since supper, but I’d had the softly nickering ponies and their mistress’s unhurried voice to keep me too interested to sleep. Derfrulia had told me about each of the ponies, and what was stowed in the bags they carried, and why those things were important to Clan Kahgli. She told me about living in a tent, and what the food was like, and how many folk it took to watch over the herds. She told me about how the ponies and goats and horses dropped their young, and how few moments passed before those young were on their feet and running beside their mothers.

She asked me about living in Thorin’s Halls, too. I didn’t speak about the bullies. Instead, I told her about working with Uncle at the forge, and how I’d progressed from mere bellows-pumper to basic ironwork. I told her how Fíli and I’d learned to make simple things, like shoes for ponies and tool hooks. I told her about chopping wood for Maamr. I told her about lessons with Dwalin to learn weaponry, too, and about the time he’d taken when I’d showed promise with the bow, and how I’d mastered arrow making. I didn’t notice how carefully she guided me into talking about the extra lessons he’d given me in hand to hand fighting until it was too late. I stopped in mid sentence when I realized I’d as much as admitted to being bullied.

_Valar, Kíli, you’re such a fool. Such a naïve, stupid, useless fool..._

“Master Dwalin would say you learned his lessons well, and do I,” Derfrulia’s soft voice came to me in the dark. “Kept your temper today, you did. Kept your distance until your charges were threatened, dealt a decisive blow, and returned to your charges. I like that. And I thank Clan Durin for its staunch support.”

I swallowed. For the first time, I wished it wasn’t too dark to see Derfrulia’s face, so I could judge whether the horse maid was sincere or not. But she had no reason not to be, unless it was to cajole me into doing a good job for her...

_She’s dealt with you straightly so far, Kíli, so she still is now. Just relax. You can’t let a few bullies make you think poorly of everyone around you - or yourself. The horse clans wouldn’t have hired a liability. They can’t afford that. So you’re fine. You’re fine._

“Y-you’re w-welcome. Your ponies d-didn’t deserve to be hurt.”

“They didn’t. They don’t deserve to be a wolf’s supper, either. Have you hunted wolves before?”

“I haven’t. Rabbits, deer... things for the larder, mostly. Fíli and I learned to set snares for birds, too. Maamr makes good pies out of the pheasant.”

“They’re hard quarry even with snares,” Derfrulia continued easily. “Do you have dogs to help you?”

“Some of the Dwarves in Thorin’s Halls do, but we don’t.” I brightened. “Does Clan Kahgli have wolfhounds? I’ve heard some of the clans have them. They’re said to be amazing.”

“We have them, yes, and they are amazing, indeed. We have herding dogs, as well. Both are full partners with us, so much so that we pair a dog with as many of our folk as take to them. Makes both better on watch. You like dogs, then?”

“I like most animals. They... eh, I might as well say it. They don’t care what I look like.”

Derfrulia sighed. “Aye, that’s one way they’re better than we are. I can’t promise that all our folk will keep kind tongues in their heads, Kíli. But we don’t hold with bullying. We hold with doing a good job, and you’ve already shown that you can do that. As long as you and your brother aren’t afraid of hard work, you’ll do well.”

“Words I can live with. And hard work. Fíli’s no different. And I hope one of your dogs will take to me. I’d like that.”

“Think on that, then. Now, take your rest. Dawn will come early, and we’ll travel fast tomorrow, so we reach the rest of the clan by the eve.”

“I thank you for explaining so much. I’ll tell Fíli all about it tomorrow, so he’ll know it, too.”

Derfrulia chuckled. “Good of you. Wake your brother for me, then sleep well.”

“You, too, Derfrulia.”

We stepped within the dim light of the banked fire, and I found that Fíli had put out my blankets beside him. I squatted beside him to shake his shoulder. “Fíli. Wake up.”

“Go away,” he growled, still asleep.

“It’s your turn for watch,” I shook him again.

This time, Fíli’s eyes fluttered, and he roused groggily. “Watch what, you doh kro?”

“The ponies,” I snickered, giving him another shake. “Derfrulia’s ponies, remember?”

“Wha...? Oh, Valar, Derfrulia’s ponies.” Fíli sat up, rubbing his eyes. “All right, I’m awake.” He gave me a bleary look. “I’m awake... What are you grinning about?”

“Derfrulia told me lots of the most amazing things while we were on watch, Fíl. Lots and lots. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. They have wolfhounds and herding dogs, and maybe we’ll get to work with them, and they have some of the tallest horses, too, big enough for Elves. Maybe we can learn to ride them. And there are –”

“Save some of it for tomorrow, Kíl,” Fíli snorted, smiling as he pulled on his boots. “I’ll stand my watch, and then maybe we can talk about everything after breakfast.”

“All right,” I grinned, unrolling my blankets. “Maybe Yanna will have lots of things to tell you, too, and we’ll trade.”

“Maybe so. Sleep well, doh kro.”

“Good watch, brother.”

Fíli got up to stretch. Across the fire, Derfrulia had bedded down and Yanna was pulling on her coat. I got my boots off and settled into my blankets, wiggling my toes as Fíli and Yanna ventured past the firelight. I watched the embers in the fire for bit as I willed myself to calm enough for sleep. It was hard, despite how long I’d been up. Everything was new and unexpected, and the novelty of lying under the stars by a fire was still too exotic to let me sleep right away. In only a moment or two, though, I shut my eyes firmly and pulled my blankets close. I wouldn’t last the busy morrow if I stayed awake pondering it all, so I tried not to smell the comforting smell of wood smoke, hear the occasional stamp of ponies and the crackle of embers, or see the sparkling belt of stars that stretched overhead...

 

* * *

 

Despite Kíli’s excitement, my brother was asleep before I had a quick cup of tea by the fire. I smiled to see Kíli so entranced. I’d heard a few moments of Derfrulia’s talk with him earlier, and I was grateful to her for treating him with such kindness. I suspected that Dwalin had relayed my analogy about pit hounds and sight hounds to the horse maid, for she was encouraging and patient without condescension, no matter how many questions Kíli asked her. I’d fallen asleep with a smile. This was going to work out. It was.

Yanna, however, didn’t see fit to talk to me much past telling me how to watch ponies at night. She impressed me as a maid disinclined to idle yammering to begin with, but as the heir to a prosperous clan, she’d likely learned to put an even sterner guard on her tongue. I thought she was likely forty or so, still not at her majority, but close enough for other clans to cast an assessing eye her way. She was too smart a maid not to notice their attentions.

I’d already felt some of those attentions, myself. Clan Durin might not be the most materially gifted, but Uncle was a strong ruler, well regarded, and of course he was the king of lost Erebor, assuming my grandfather, Thrain, wasn’t still alive. Thain gone missing long ago, and while rumors and sightings had steadily roiled our folk since his disappearance, most considered him dead, and Uncle Thorin the king. As Uncle’s first heir, I’d long ago learned to pretend not to listen when someone made mention of me becoming a king after him one day. I didn’t want that, but I understood duty, and so strove to meet Uncle’s high standards for how to work and conduct myself.

The harder job was to have the right attitude about attentions from the maids. I was no different from any Dwarf lad, ready and willing to trade caresses from a pretty maid for caresses of my own. My folk weren’t like Men, or so I’d been told, who thought it was unnatural for maids and lads to savor time together. But given how few Dwarf maids we had, a lad had to dally honorably, with respect to more than his cock. I was more than happy to be honorable and respectful of any maid who turned an inviting eye on me, my youth not withstanding. But it hadn’t taken long for me to learn that some maids weren’t as honorable or respectful as I’d been raised to be. No one really expected our folk to reclaim Erebor anytime in the next six lifetimes, but even if we didn’t have Erebor, we had Thorin’s Halls, and Uncle was our ruler, and I was his heir, and that gave me a certain glamour that drew certain ambitious maids. Maamr, of all folk, had sorted that out right off, and had sat me down to describe exactly what maids would do to attract my eye. Dwalin had given me the lad’s version of that, but neither version had sunk in until I’d caught one of the minxes at it – or Kíli had, to be honest. Fryn had been so sweet, so alluring, so teasing, until I’d been besotted with her, and could talk of nothing else. Then Kíli had overheard her telling friends about a whole string of tricks she hoped would snare me, and had told me. I’d been angry with him, but he hadn’t backed down. In fact, he’d shown me where Fryn and her friends gossiped, so I could hear her for myself. She hadn’t been much more insulting to Kíli than to me, and so I understood that Maamr, Dwalin, and Kíli had all spoken truth.

I became a lot more critical about which maids I let close to me after that. Still it wasn’t the last time that what I might be one day drew folk who otherwise had no use for me. A few of the most ambitious maids noted how close Kíli and I were, and had taken to being kind and complimentary to my younger brother only as a way to get to me. We’d both grown up after that lesson, if having a more jaundiced eye about the attentions of maids counted as growing up. Kíli was too young to care much about maids yet, anyway, but he’d gotten such a rasher of shit from them that now he shied away from them completely. I didn’t, but I was still cautious.

If my experience was sobering, I was sure that Yanna’s had been worse, for she was the sole heiress to a rich and powerful clan, and I understood her caution with me, no matter what I’d said to her earlier. But I was sleepy, and I’d fall on my face if I stood out here with just a string of ponies to nuzzle me now and again, cute though they might be. So I ventured a conversation with Yanna to make sure I stayed awake. I didn’t ask about the herds her clan owned, as that might seem like I counted up her assets. Instead, I asked about the wolfhounds Kíli had mentioned, and told her how excited Kíli was about them, and we had quite a cordial discussion. The dogs were as friendly to Dwarves as they were death to wolves, and Yanna made working with them sound so interesting that I hoped one favored me. I had no doubt that several would gravitate to my younger brother; animals had always seen something special in him. Me, not so much, but maybe one would settle for me, anyway.

Our conversation meandered from dogs to wolves to ponies to the big horses, so by the time the sun rose, Yanna wasn’t so wary about me. It had been easier in the dark to ignore what a beauty she was, and just think about our conversation. Once I could see her sweet face again, I tried not to be so dazzled, and to keep myself well in hand. The last thing I wanted was for her to see me as just another grasping suitor, which would bring her wary armor out again, never to be removed again.

“The sun’ll be up in another few moments,” Yanna observed, rubbing the side of her spotted pony affectionately. “We’ll have our breakfast and be on our way.”

“What should I do? Stir up the fire? Do you make porridge or something for breakfast?”

“Normally, we’d have porridge, yes. But we’ll make do with the last of the stew and more flatbread. Do you know how to make it?”

“No, but I’m a quick learner, if you show me how.”

Together, we set about breakfast. While Yanna got the fire to her liking, she directed me to put a little water into the stewpot, settle the griddle to heat on the coals, and fetch the bread-making ingredients. Then she showed me how to mix flour, salt, leavening, and water to make the flatbread, and put it to cook on the griddle. By then, Derfrulia was up, though Kíli was still sound asleep. Even though breakfast wasn’t ready, I roused him, because he often needed time to ease his sore legs. Yes, he sat up gingerly, but he gave me a look that told me not to say anything. I brought him a cup of hot tea with a big lump of butter in it, thinking the warm drink might ease him no matter what it tasted like, and he gave me an appreciative smile. He crossed his legs under him and leaned against one of the sacks of goods while he sipped his brew, casually flexing his hands and rolling his ankles to help them loosen. By the time the flatbread was done and the stew was hot, he moved with a little more ease.

“Not used to sleeping on the ground,” Yanna observed, looking at Kíli.

His eyes flitted up to hers, darted away, then met hers again. He shrugged as if it were of no import. “I can sleep anywhere. Some morns, though, my legs ache because I’m still growing so fast. They’ll ease in a bit.”

Yanna’s eyebrows went up. “You’re still growing?”

She didn’t sound exasperated, so Kíli grinned shyly. “Hard to fathom, I know, as tall as I am already. Maybe I’ll be tall enough to ride one of your big horses before the year is out.”

“You’re that now,” Yanna shook her head. She looked at her grandmother, who chuckled.

“Last year’s festival still rankles, does it?” Derfrulia teased her granddaughter.

Yanna snorted, drawing my sympathetic smile.

“Sounds like a story worth telling,” I coaxed.

“Damned Clan Fentril,” Yanna muttered under her breath, drawing another chuckle from her grandmother.

“We have a big fall festival,” Derfrulia explained. “Pony racing, archery contests, and so forth. Last year Clan Fentril turned up with a lad on one of the tallest horses any of us had ever seen and swept a stable’s worth of the races. Yanna hasn’t forgiven him for the audacity of outracing her on Shar.”

“It was a clean race,” Yanna grumbled. “But that horse was so tall that he could cover three of Shar’s strides in one of his. No horse came close to him.” She gave Kíli a speculative look. “Maybe you could give it a try.”

Even though Kíli rubbed his knees in an unconscious attempt to ease them, he grinned in anticipation. “I’m game. Fíli’s a good rider, too. You could give it a try, too, brother.”

“Maybe I will,” I agreed.

“We’ve got to catch up with the clan, first,” Derfrulia declared. She drained her teacup, and swallowed the last bit of broth from her bowl. “Time we were on the path, all.”

Kíli and I slurped up the remains of our stew and tea, and set to packing up our campsite as the maids directed us. I gave Kíli an arm up, concerned about his sore legs, but he helped without complaint, for all that he moved gingerly. We tacked up the ponies, repacked the sacks and bags and bundles, and drained the last of the tea as we put out the fire. The sun had been up only an hour or so when we climbed back on our ponies and set out.

Derfrulia set the pace, so Kíli and I followed her, riding abreast so we could talk as we rode. Yanna brought up the rear, as was her preference. Kíli held himself carefully for an hour or so until his sore hips and knees eased, but he was cheerful even before his discomfort passed. He told me all he’d learned from Derfrulia last night, and I told him about the animals and such that Yanna had passed on to me, and we had enough to fill the morn. We paused at noon again, but only long enough to deal with necessities and to hand out the makings of a cold luncheon. We walked together as we ate to give the ponies a brief rest, all four of us walking abreast as we munched. We were finally out of the trees, though they were still close enough for us to retreat there if we needed the cover. Yanna finally opened up enough to ask us about our forge work or hunting or weapons practice, so we had our first relaxed conversation with the maid.

From Yanna, Kíli and I got a solid hint of what awaited us when we'd join the clan gathering. It was big enough that it’d divide into three or more groups to shepherd the herd across a wide area, so that the flocks of sheep and herds of ponies and horses wouldn’t overgraze one area. There would be trials to determine which herders and hunters would go in each group. Even though Derfrulia had already decided to keep Kili and me in her group, we would take part in those trials so she could determine what other skills she needed to complement ours. She and Yanna gave us a full description of the trials, from archery tests and riding, but the part Kíli and I looked forward to most was the chance to mingle with the wolfhounds, to see if any of them took to us. Kíli was almost giddy about that, drawing Yanna to venture her first overt chuckle. As a consequence, neither my brother nor I complained about the fast pace Derfrulia set for us during the afternoon.

We made good time as we finally ventured away from the edge of trees and headed straight out onto the steppe. It was a rolling land, undulating away from the foothills of the Blue Mountains. I was surprised that it wasn’t yet as treeless a land as I’d expected. The tops of the undulations were treeless, of course, but the bottoms weren’t. In the shallower dips, short trees sprouted around pockets of groundwater; taller clumps filled in the deeper ones, well protected from the wind that Derfrulia told us was a constant companion. The sides of the undulations were well clothed in tough, woody shrubs interspersed with tenderer green herbage; the tops seemed bare until I took a closer look, and found them well anchored in short grasses that were just venturing their first spring shoots. This grass, Yanna, told us, would soon clothe the entire steppe in a sea of bright green, almost featureless. It was easy to get lost in such an unchanging land, so every clan camp erected what they called a mast, which was a tall, slender tree trunk hung with bright banners that could be seen for some miles. The banners relayed basic messages, and helped to guide herders home, especially those without dogs to point the way.

Eventually, one of those masts appeared in the distance. The same red, white, and black designs that marked the clan beads Kíli and I wore appeared on the banners flying at the top of the mast. Kíli’s sharp eyes picked out the flicker of the banners first, and Derfrulia confirmed that we would soon reach the tents that surrounded the mast.

When Kíli and I locked eyes, equal parts of excitement and apprehension shone in his brown eyes. The same combination was surely mirrored in my blue ones. In less than an hour, we’d see the reality behind all the stories Derfrulia and Yanna had told us. My brother grinned in open excitement, and urged his pony after Derfrulia with an eager cry. I was right behind him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Clan Kahgli's tents on the horizon, Kíli doesn't know whether to be terrified or excited - until he gets a look at the wolfhounds he's heard so much about. He's madly in love with the lot of them, and so is Fíli. But will the dogs be as taken with the brothers in return?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> The appearance of Clan Kahgli's wolfhounds is based on the beautiful and sweet Borzoi, once known as Imperial Russian wolfhounds. They are the best dogs ever! The clan's wolfhounds share much of the same temperament as Borzoi do, too, but not always. As befits any fairytale, even a gritty one, reality occasionally gets bent to suit the story, but just a little :-).
> 
> Cyth is pronounced with a hard c and short i, so "Kith."

I didn’t know whether to be excited or terrified when we pushed our ponies into a full gallop and headed straight for the clan gathering. Maybe this was what it felt like riding into battle against Orcs or trolls, not knowing what to expect, not knowing how things would turn out. Lissa raced under me, likely recognizing the end to her journey, and it was exhilarating to feel the wind whipping through my hair, and her barrel flexing under my legs. My brother raced on the other side of Yanna, his blond braids streaming behind him, his eyes alight with anticipation. Even Yanna beside me wore a wide smile, which was so different from the careful, studied expressions she’d revealed on our journey here. When she and her grandmother sent up high, wild ululations to announce their arrival, my spine thrilled and my skin tautened into goose flesh. If anyone had raised a sword or strung a bow, I would have been right with them, ready for anything. I’d never felt so alive.

On the other hand, the thought of facing so, so many strangers all at once, all staring at me the ugly Dwarf, was daunting. Dwalin had told us once during lessons about a strange country of Men far, far to the east, a hot and arid land where the sun beat down like hammers on an anvil and the land was parched and brown. Those Men wore cloth masks to keep off the bite of the sun, masks that revealed only their eyes to outsiders. If someone had handed me one of those masks as we approached the camp, I would have put it on with relief. But so such mask appeared. I snuck a look at Fíli. His features were assured, calmly assessing, so I did my best to make my features mirror his. It helped me to think of that expression as my mask.

_Just remember what Dwalin told you so often, Kíli. You’re likely going to be the best archer, no matter how young you are. The horse clans will respect that. You’ve just got to stay calm until the trials, and then you’ll be on your feet. Just stay calm._

It was hard to listen to my inner, sensible self. I wanted so badly to make a good impression!

Ahead of us, more ululations warbled high on the winds in answer to the horse maids’ greetings. A stir went around the camp and a flurry of folk gathered to meet us. I shot a quick look at Fíli, and he gave me an excited, encouraging grin. He slowed his pony to let Yanna go ahead of us, then he swerved Grimble left to fall in beside me. He was telling me that we’d stand together, no matter what awaited us. That relieved a good bit of my apprehension, so I grinned back.

“Kíli!” Fíli pointed. “Look!”

An entire flight of wolfhounds raced ahead of the welcoming Dwarves, flying towards us at breathtaking speed. They were so beautiful, dappled like clouds in a rippling mixture of browns, creams, greys, and blacks, their tongues lolling in wide smiles. Their coats were thick, middling long; some were curly, some straight, some wispy, some growing in every direction. All were long enough to whip and stream in the breeze, emphasizing how fast the dogs were. More than two dozen raced past us in the late afternoon sun, then looped around to race past us again, running all out just for the pure pleasure of it. I was captivated. What must it be like to have one of those elegant dogs beside me, to greet me with such a wide, toothy smile, to cavort and dance around me? My apprehension faded as I marveled at their grace and power.

“Yah!” I called back to Fíli, laughing in delight as the dogs leaped by us. “I can’t wait!”

“Yah!” Fíli agreed, just as excited as I was. How amazing would it be if two of those dogs chose us as workmates? It was all I could do to stay on my pony, rather than fling myself after the lot of them. Fíli must’ve seen it, because he leaned closer to me.

“Think about the ponies for a bit longer, Kíl. We’ve got to see to our charges for now, so we look steady and responsible. That’ll give us a better chance at getting a dog.”

“You’re right,” I agreed, swallowing down my excitement. “You’re right. Thanks, Fíl.”

Fíli’s warning was just in time, because Derfrulia and Yanna were slowing as we reached the greeters. Fíli and I followed suit, though it was hard to do, for the ponies were just as excited as we were. But we came to a halt in reasonably good form as a throng of smiling Dwarves gathered around the two horse maids. We got ready to see to our ponies, but there was no need. Several Dwarves came to take them in hand for us, all smiling a welcome, even to me, so we freed the baggage ponies’ lead lines from our saddles as requested, hopped down to collect our packs and fiddles and bow rigs, and stood side by side as our six ponies were led away. Yanna and her grandmother had dismounted by then, too, and as more Dwarves took their ponies away, Derfrulia beckoned Fíli and me to her side. Shouldering our gear, we joined her and Yanna.

“This is Fíli, and this is Kíli. They’ll help us against the wolves this season, so make them welcome. Both of them are archers, and good hunters.”

“More pity to the antelope!” someone yelled good-naturedly in the rear, which was met with laughter.

“Mahal, Kíli, you’re a tall one!” someone else yelled. “Can you sit a full horse?”

“Show me the horse, and I’ll show you whether I can sit it or not!” I called back happily, before I thought better of it. Before I could wince, though, more laughter followed, and Fíli thumped my back in encouragement.

“More pity to Clan Fentril!” someone else called. This time, there were cheers mixed in the laughter, and several avowals of beating the Dwarf on the tall horse that Yanna had told us about. I gulped and looked at Fíli.

“Oh, Valar, Fíli, I hope I can sit a full horse,” I murmured.

“Yah, it’ll be harder than a pony because you won’t be able to wrap your legs around its barrel and tie them in a knot underneath,” he grinned. “But you’ll manage.”

“Or you will. You ride as well as I do.”

“We’ve got time to find out. For now, just worry about settling in.”

I nodded as Derfrulia led us forward into the midst of the tents.

Oh and oh, there were so many things to look at! There was the tall mast in the center of the tents, sunk into the ground and braced with a ring of pegged lines. The steadying lines all bore banners and pennants, some of them clan signs, some of them decorative, and some of them just to add color and motion. Horsehair braids and streamers decorated many of the banners, and knotwork in rawhide, horsehair, and cloth. Around the mast were the tents, one of them bigger than any tent I’d ever imagined – likely twenty Dwarves could shelter under it. The tents were all thick canvas, most of it bleached grey or white from the sun, and more colored streamers festooned the supporting lines. The pegs that held the lines fast were made of wood or bone, in many instances carved into the heads of horses, goats, foxes, birds, and other animals. Each tent had a vent in its center, for smoke wafted up, but it was not scented like wood, though I did catch an occasional whiff of stew or something pungent. Besides the huge central tent, perhaps eight or ten smaller ones clustered nearby. Beyond the tents were pens holding ponies and a few goats and sheep.

Most of the Dwarves who came and went between the tents, maids and lads, wore distinctive tunics like Yanna’s, embroidered with colorful designs. They laughed and called to one another, and generally seemed to be a cheerful lot. I didn’t pay them the attention I should have, because I was so distracted.

The wolfhounds held my eyes, of course. The camp was full of them. Derfrulia had told me last night that most of the herding dogs were still out with the herd animals, but after seeing the wolfhounds, I had no thought for the smaller dogs. The wolfhounds roamed freely throughout the camp, nosing one person or another as the mood took them. This was my first close look, and they were even more beautiful than they had been flying by my ponies. Their eyes were large, typical for any sight hound, and the usual color was brown or amber. A few of the mostly pale grey ones had brilliant blue eyes – very striking, they were. Not a dog in the lot was anything less than perfection, all long legs, sleek and slender bodies, yet with deep barrel chests to house the huge lungs that gave them such endurance and speed. I forgot to look at the rest of the camp, so delightful was it to look at them.

As if the dogs realized my fascination with them, first one, then another, came up to nose me. Fíli was no less interesting to them, and soon more than I could count had come over to examine the two newcomers. I shrugged my bow rig and pack off my shoulder and dared to kneel beside a trio of them.

“Oh and oh and oh, you are all so beautiful, aren’t you?” I murmured, daring to stretch out my hand. Fíli followed suit, and was soon crooning endearments to whatever dog would pay attention to him. When one of them nosed my neck and licked my cheek, I laughed. This was the most wonderful greeting I’d ever received anywhere.

“They wasted no time, did they?” Derfrulia laughed, looking around, her arms akimbo as she surveyed the pair of us eagerly patting and rubbing and murmuring to as many of our attendants as we could reach. She reached in to retrieve our fiddles before one or another of the dogs knocked them over. “I thought they’d at least let you get your packs into the tent and have a look around before they pestered you.”

“Pester? You would never pester, would you?” I said to the dogs surrounding me. “You just heard me say how bonny you all are, that’s all.”

“Or maybe we both smell like breakfast stew and they’ve decided they wanted a taste,” Fíli teased. “In either case, Kíli’s right. They’re the bonniest dogs I’ve ever seen.”

“Looks like they think you're both more hunter than herder. Which one suits you, then?” Derfrulia asked.

I looked my surprise at her. “Which one? They’re all beyond words. Whichever one will have me is perfect.”

“I think this one thinks I suit her just fine,” Fíli grinned at the stunning, elegant dog that tried to crawl into his lap and licked his face so enthusiastically that she toppled him over. She was a fancy lass, with a silky coat of unbroken cream that looked as thick as ermine pelt. Her eyes were liquid, glowing gold, and full of humor, and the pert way she held herself told me that she knew exactly how heartbreakingly beautiful she was. Laughing, my brother fended her off long enough to sit up again, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders to hug her close. “I hope she’s not set on anyone else.”

“That’s Rinnala,” Yanna told Fíli, smiling broadly. “She’s just two. If she suits you as well as you suit her, well and good. She’s a flirt, that one.”

I giggled. “Just the maid for you, Fíli. A fancy, flirty one.”

Fíli scrubbed his fingers through Rinnala’s ruff, drawing her to stretch her head up to the clouds and grin in ecstasy. “Yah, we’re a fine pair, Rinnala! You’ll show me what I need to know to be a good hunter, won’t you?” She licked his ear playfully. “Yes, I thought so. You are a dream!”

“She’s beautiful, Fíl!” I congratulated my brother. “Just perfect!”

“What about you, then?” Fíli returned, snuggling Rinnala into his chest and stroking her flank. “Which one is yours?”

“I don’t know yet,” I said, as several long, slender noses poked at me, making me laugh. “They haven’t made up their minds yet. Have you, you bonny things? Which one of you will help me be a good hunter? Is it you, sweeting, with the bright blue eyes? Or you, little brown coat? Or – oh! Who are you?”

Beyond the six or seven dogs still nosing me sat another one, quite alone. It – no, she – had one of the longish, wavy coats that seemed to grow in every direction. It seemed to be all colors, too, yet no specific one. She was mostly grey, but six shades of it, from pale silver to darkest charcoal, yet here hinted a black stripe, and there gleamed a faint shadow of rusty chestnut. Her eyes were dark brown and mysterious, assessing me. She seemed very old and wise until she moved, and then she had all the vigor of a young dog.

“Who are you, pretty one with the coat full of shadows? Come to have a look at the new Dwarves, have you?”

“That’s Mhornar,” Derfrulia named her. “The Shadow Maid.”

“Well named, you are,” I said to the dog, as another came to stand behind her. “And do you have a friend with you? I don’t blame you for holding to him, my lady. He’s as handsome as you are beautiful.”

The dog that had trotted up to stand behind Mhornar was solid black on his back and sides, and white on his belly and legs, with a wide fringe of buff all around to mark the border between white and black fur. His coat was longer, straighter, and silkier than Mhornar’s, and it didn’t grow in the every-direction-at once manner that hers did. If her beauty was a bit feral, a bit perilous, his was more measured, more approachable, perhaps more playful. They both seemed very restrained and aloof – until they decided to shoulder the other dogs aside to poke and nose at me most emphatically, showing me how strong they were.

“Oh and oh, both of you at once?” I protested weakly, trying to gently fend off their noses and paws. “Stop, you’ll pull out my clan beads! Yes, I can rub your neck the way you like it, I can! See? There, is that better? Yes, I’ll rub you, too. It’s your choice; which one will have me? One of you has to give way.”

“They won’t,” Derfrulia shook her head, looking down at me. “That’s Alabrin, Mhornar’s consort. Where one goes, so does the other. Never seen the like.”

“Don’t they hold to someone already?” I asked, trying to dodge Alabrin’s insistent tongue to look at the horse maid. Was she angry at me? “They’re magnificent, both of them. Surely –”

“They hold to you, I’d say,” she chuckled at my futile attempts to keep two very large wolfhounds from knocking me over. “I had a feeling one of them might take to you. I should have known they both would.”

“Both of them?” I looked up. “Is that allowed? I mean –”

“Is there something about one of our dogs that you don’t like?” she cocked her head at me.

“Oh and oh, of course not! They’re both wonderful! They are! But I don’t want to take such a bright thing away from anyone –”

“You won’t,” Yanna snorted. “Neither’s seen fit to bother with a Dwarf before. Lucky you. Wait’ll you see how long it takes to feed two of them!”

“I _am_ lucky!” I shot back, delighted. “Though maybe they think otherwise. Maybe they think it’ll take both of them to set me straight. Is that it, you two?” I snickered, and shook Alabrin’s muzzle gently. “Eh, you might be right.”

I snuck a look over at Fíli, but he was struggling to stay upright under Rinnala’s poking and prodding, and laughing as hard as if he’d found his ideal in dog form. His fancy princess cast him a coy look and whuffed, as if to say Alabrin and Mhornar were both fools and she was the wisest one. Even if she were right, I didn’t care. I draped an arm around the two wolfhounds that had adopted me and hugged them hard, thanking them. If I died right how, it would be at the happiest moment of my life so far.

“All right, you three, let your Dwarves put away their things, and then they’ll be back with you,” Derfrulia announced. “Fíli, Kíli, get your packs, and we’ll get you settled in the tent. I’ve got your fiddles for you! If you can tear yourselves away from your hounds after supper, maybe you can give us a tune or two.”

“We’d be delighted!” Fíli laughed, clambering to his feet. “I won’t be a moment, Rinnala. Let me get rid of my things, and I’ll hurry straight back. Come on, Kíli!”

I finally managed to scramble upright, and grabbed my things before the dogs had me down again. Only then did I realize how many Dwarves stood around smiling and laughing. I started to flinch, but the long, narrow heads under my hands reassured me, and I understood that the Dwarves were enjoying the spectacle, and their smiles were welcoming, not derisive. As I hefted my pack and bow rig, I smiled back, and followed Derfrulia and Fíli, our dogs trotting beside us.

“Do you lads want to stay together, or venture farther apart?” Derfrulia asked, as she led us to the big central tent.

“Together, please,” we chorused, grinning sheepishly at each other for mirroring each other’s choice.

“Good enough. You’ll stay in the family tent until we divide the herd. You’ll likely stay there once we know what the split will be, too, but none of us will have to think about that for a day or so.”

She ducked inside the big tent. Fíli followed her, and I followed him. The dogs stayed outside, but as I looked back, I grinned to see the three of them sitting side by side, peering inside after us as if they wanted to make sure we behaved ourselves. I’m sure I had the silliest grin on my face as I turned back to Derfrulia. Fíli and I had passed muster with the wolfhounds, and in a few blinks of the eye. We were on our way!

_Pay attention to Derfrulia, Kíli. The dogs will be there once you’re settled._

There was a surprising lot of room under the canvas, all of it open but for the stout poles that held the canvas aloft. A round hearth was in the center of the space; a fire burned lowly on a stone hearth, and then I identified the smell I’d noted earlier on the wind. The fire was kindled of dried animal dung, which burned hot and clean. That made sense in a land where trees were scarce and grazing animals prolific. Various pots and kettles sat around the fire, and some sat on the fire. A pot of soup smelled good, and a teakettle steamed quietly on the side.

Around the hearth was open space for folk to walk about. Around the perimeter was living space. Derfrulia had explained that the perimeter spaces were private, and whatever was going on in those private spaces, whether it was an argument or quiet meditation or solitary work or, Mahal bless it, coupling, was to be strictly ignored. It was rude to stare, or to talk about what went on, or interfere, short of murder or accident. I wondered how easy it would be for me to ignore a pair coupling. I could barely conceive of the whole idea, much less think about it happening in front of me. But I knew how to manage that. I’d pull a blanket over my head and hope I didn’t hear very much.

Derfrulia led Fíli and me to two spaces to one side of the tent door. I’d expected that. The spaces at the back of the tent were sought after, and those by the door were not, so usually the clan’s more senior folk were at the back, and the younglings were at the front. The front was colder in winter and hotter in summer, and everyone who went in and out passed the spaces near the front, but not those in the back. I didn’t mind, especially when Derfrulia didn’t put us hard by the door, but about three spaces away. I gave Fíli the space near the back because he was older, and took the one next to him without complaint. Pallets and blankets were already laid out in each space, so we had only to put our packs against the back wall of the tent, our bow rigs on our pallets, and our fiddles gently on top of our pillows, and we were officially settled.

Derfrulia drew us to the hearth to introduce her to the old Dwarf dam who tended it. “Maamr, we’ve two more in the tent now. Meet Fíli and Kíli. They’re two of our new archers. Fíli, Kíli, this is Cyth.”

This was Derfrulia’s mother? Yanna’s great grandmother? Once I’d offered her a respectful bow, I considered her with interest. Her face was only slightly more lined than her daughter’s, but she was much slenderer. In fact, she was almost as thin as I was. Still, she was strong enough to heft one of the large, flat pans without a tremble as she raked my brother and me with a sharp eye, up and down, up and down.

“Fíli and Kíli, is it? Younglings, both of you. You, Fíli, you’re sturdy enough. Kíli, though, you’re too thin! Always hungry, aren’t you? Likely your friend is, too, but especially you. Younglings always are. I’ll have my work cut out for me, fattening you up. Can’t let anyone think Clan Kahgli doesn’t feed its hunters!”

Fíli snickered, and so did I. I was still so entranced about the wolfhounds that nothing would ruin my mood. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, indeed,” my brother said with a deep sigh. “Kíli’s a picky eater, he is, and turns up his nose at everything.”

“I do not!” I blurted. “I eat everything in sight – I mean, I am a very accommodating eater to a variety of cooks...”

Cyth nodded wisely as she plunked her pan down over the fire, not taken in by Fíli’s joke. “Brothers, aren’t you? I thought so. Fíli’s older; Kíli’s younger. Never mind, I’ll sort the both of you out. Hope you’re good with those nice bows I saw you bring in. The more you bring for the stewpot, the more I’ll put in front of you to eat.”

“We have a bargain,” I breathed, offering Cyth another bow.

Cyth’s laugh was a sharp bark, apt accompaniment to a wide toothy grin. She reached behind her, fished out a double handful of something, and tossed one to each of us. I caught a biscuit thick with dried fruit and dense with honey. “See if that’ll take the edge off until supper.”

“Thank you,” Fili offered a bow and a genial smile. “I think we’re in the best tent, Kíl. The one with the best cook.”

“Flatterer,” Cyth nodded, grinning. “We’ll get on fine with these two, Derfrulia.”

“I thought so, too,” the horse maid agreed. “All right, lads, go see to your hounds. You won’t have to provide their meat for a while, but it’s good for you to feed them to help set the bond between you. You’ll feed them twice a day, morn and eve. You’ll see others fetching their dog’s rations, so the master of hounds will be easy to find. It’ll be a while before supper, so stretch your legs a bit, find out where the necessary is, and take your ease.”

“Yes, Derfrulia,” I murmured, and Fíli did likewise. I offered another bow to Cyth. “It is good to meet you, Cyth.”

“And thank you for the biscuits,” Fíli added, as we turned to leave the tent. The maids’ acknowledgements followed us out.

The three wolfhounds were still sitting in a row in front of the tent when we came out, but rose to their feet when they saw us. Fíli turned a wide-eyed look of ecstasy on me.

“Can you believe it?” he breathed, as he stretched out a hand to Rinnala. “I can’t. I really can’t, Kíl. They’re so, so wonderful. Oh –!”

Rinnala rose on her hind legs to put her front feet on Fíli’s shoulders, giving him a sloppy lick. He staggered, but managed to keep his feet, even though the dog towered a foot over him. Thankfully, mine didn’t try that together, or I would have ended up in the grass under the pair of them. But they thrust their heads under my hands, and pressed close. I stroked them both, as incredulous as my brother at our good fortune.

“Come on, you two!” I urged them. “Let’s see how fast you can run!”

I took off past the tents, out onto the empty grass, Fíli dashing after me with Rinnala in pursuit. We spent a very few moments leaping about and cavorting with them, each one a joy, for the dogs seemed as thrilled about it as Fíli and I did. Very quickly, however, an old Dwarf hastened out to us.

“Hai, Fíli and Kíli!” he heralded, waving. The dogs knew him, for they trotted up to him to nose him once before coming back to us.

“Hai,” Fíli returned, waving back. “I’m Fíli. That’s my brother, Kíli.”

“Vikken,” he returned, offering us the same greeting that Derfrulia had offered, his hands palm to palm before his chest as he bowed. “I’m the hound master. I take it that you’ve not seen our wolfhounds before.”

“No, sir, we haven’t,” Fíli said respectfully. “They’re the most incredible beasts we’ve ever seen. I can’t believe how wonderful they are.”

Vikken nodded, pleased at Fíli’s clear pleasure. “That they are. It’s hard not to want to run and romp with them your first day, I know. But it’s close to their supper, and ye likely don’t know that they shouldn’t run and romp this close to eating. They need calm both before and after they eat, to keep the bloat away. So save the hard frolic for tomorrow, lads, to keep them safe.”

I gulped, looking at Mhornar and Alabrin. “Oh, Valar! I’d never forgive myself if they took sick that way. What should we do, then? Just sit quietly with them? Walk about a bit?”

“Walking is good, but better you find a comfortable spot to sit and just let them sit with you. In an hour, you come see me for their rations. And once they eat, don’t sneak them any part of your supper. They can’t eat too much at any one time.”

Fíli stroked Rinnala’s head gently. “Kíl, the first thing we have to learn is everything about taking care of these beauties.”

I nodded vigorously. “The very first thing.”

Vikken nodded. “Good lads. That’s my very reason for coming out to you. First thing in the morn, then?”

Fíli nodded. “We’ll find you first thing.”

“Thank you, sir,” I added.

The Dwarf gave us a wave, and tramped back to camp.

I plunked myself on the ground right where I was, and held out my arms to the two wolfhounds. “Come on, Alabrin. Come sit with me, Mhornar. We have to let you rest before you eat, don’t we? Come on, then.”

Fíli sat back to back with me as we had so often in Thorin’s Halls, but this time, it wasn’t just the two of us sharing a quiet moment. Rinnala settled in front of Fíli, and laid her head and front paws in my brother’s lap with a sigh. My pair lay on either side of me, a long, slender head resting on each thigh. Fíli and I were silent for a while; I was thinking how close my excitement had come to making my new friends sick, and how devastated I would have been if that had happened. Fíli was probably sobered for the same reason, but as we stroked and petted and rubbed, we calmed.

It was getting dark now, and the air was quiet and peaceful. Fíli sat at my back with his creamy princess, a queen of shadows sat at my left hand, and a king of the light sat at my right. When other figures came towards us, more Dwarves with their dogs, I felt no apprehension. Why should I? Mhornar and Alabrin had already told me that all was well.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli and Kíli moon over beautiful wolfhounds, and get their the first glimpses of what life is like with Clan Kahgli.

If ever I’d worried that coming to the steppes was a bad idea, today banished all doubt. True, I had enjoyed riding a pony, making a campfire, smelling stew in the open air, and especially having a pretty maid show me how to bake flatbread. I had liked breathing so freely under a limitless sky, something I’d never done before, as Thorin’s Halls was deep in the well-forested hills at the foot of the Blue Mountains. I had liked the clean smell of greening grass, and the powdery smell of last year’s dried herbage that had clothed the rolling steppes. Still, many a day in Thorin’s Halls had been as fine.

But to fall into the deep, golden eyes of my sprightly Rinnala... nothing so fine had ever happened to me. Nothing. That pleasure and delight was so intense that I thought I’d burst trying to contain it.

What if none of the dogs took to Kíli? Oh, Mahal, don’t let that happen, don’t let him endure the same rejection from these divine wolfhounds as he had from his own folk! I almost didn’t want to look away from Rinnala, worried that I’d see Kíli standing alone and ignored –

Praise all of the Valar, I needn’t have worried about that, either. A good eight or ten of the regal beasts surrounded my brother with tails wagging and tongues licking, and his face was as blissfully alight as I’d never seen it before. I breathed a profound sigh of relief, and pulled Rinnala close to enjoy my brother’s happiness as well as my own. Which dog would claim him? The pale grey with such stunning blue eyes? Or the black with the high, fringed tail? But no, it was an exotic maid – and a handsome lad, too! Two of them? Yes, two of them! Was that done? No matter if the Dwarves didn’t _think_ so; those two dogs _knew_ so, and shouldered the other ones aside without hesitation. Kíli’s ecstatic grin rivaled my own, and in that moment, I knew perfection did happen, and this was it.

After this perfect moment, Kíli might never leave the steppe. And who would blame him? Not I. I might even stay with him, Clan Durin duties be damned!

Now that we were happily sitting out in the grass with our new companions, I relaxed, let all worries, go, and looked up into the wide sky to watch the clouds fly swiftly above us. They flew almost as fast as a creamy wolfhound queen...

“Visitors,” Kíli said softly. His voice was calm, without concern, which drew my smile. It was hard enough to worry about anything with a single lovely steppe wolfhound in my lap. I imagined it was even harder with two.

 When I looked around, I spotted the handful of Dwarves walking towards us, their hounds pacing beside them. Rinnala didn’t move from my lap, but her soulful eyes looked up at me as if pleading for me not to move. So I shifted only a little, until Kíli and I faced the Dwarves, with Mhornar between us. I lifted a hand in greeting as the Dwarves drew near, and Kíli did the same.

“Hai, you be Fíli and Kíli, then,” the first one waved. “I be Hassen, and my lad’s Tanngit.”

The Dwarves behind him named themselves and their dogs, and settled around us comfortably. I had to smile – to most, Dwarves were dour folk, and not known for poetry. We did write it, though most of it described either drinking or brawling, on a battlefield or not, and even that was seriously intense and far from fanciful. Clan Kahgli’s dog names, on the other hand, were nothing if not poetic. Tanngit was short for Tanngit den Torak, or Soul’s Arrow. Ezkulazar was Darkest Gold, and Silfaevenen was Silver Eve. Shathtosti was Cloud Thief. One magnificent lass with a shining gold, amber, and grey coat was Taalenag, To Be On Fire. Our dogs’ names were no less poetic, for Rinnala meant Queen Nala; Mhornar, short for Mhornarklyn, meant Shadow Spirit; and Alabrin, short for Kulalabrin, meant Black Swiftness. Each name spoke truly of the manner and look of the dog. That came with only close and subtle observation, another thing Dwarves were not known for, but we weren’t always the racketing horde the other folk thought we were... eh, at least on rare occasion, we weren’t.

The Dwarves asked where we were from, and what we were here for, but they weren’t nosy past that. Mostly they wanted to talk to us about dogs, and that was a joy. Kíli’s eyes were brighter than they usually were around so many unknown folk, and he eagerly asked questions and listened to stories with clear enjoyment. He was a different Dwarf with those two beauties beside him, just as I was with Rinnala beside me. I’d known her less than an hour, and already she was my adorable, winsome, friend for life. Was anything else so wonderful? I was hard pressed to think so.

When was time to go visit the Master of Hounds for the dogs’ supper, our new acquaintances took us with them. The dogs knew the routine, of course, and shepherded us along with the others. Rinnala looked up at me with a lolling tongue as if to say, “Don’t worry, Fíli. I’ll show you what this is all about, I will,” and so she did. Vikken was ready for us, and for the other hunters also coming for their dogs’ rations. Kíli and I followed along, watching to see what everyone else did so we could learn the proper ways. It was all very calm, despite so many hungry dogs and the clear smell of blood and raw meat on the air. First, I had to tell Rinnala to sit in a line with the other dogs. Kíli got Mhornar and Alabrin to sit beside Rinnala. Then I followed the Dwarves to a line strung between poles that was hung with metal bowls. Each bowl had a hole near its rim to hold a hanging thong. I unhooked the thong from the line to take a bowl – Kíli took two – and carried it to the two Dwarves carving slabs of meat out of antelope carcasses. A slab of meat went into each bowl. We were shown how to cut up the meat into small chunks with our boot knives, which we did. Then we fetched our dogs, and spread out to feed them.

Vikken came over to show Kíli and me what to do next. He explained that we were never to put the bowls on the ground for the dogs to eat from. The bowls were merely a convenient way to hold the meat as we hand fed our dogs, one chunk at a time. All dogs, from weaning on, were taught to eat this way. The obvious reason was to firm the bond between dog and hunter, but there were others just as important. For example, if dogs brought down prey for the kettle, they were trained not to tear at it, fight over it, or eat it, which kept the meat unspoiled. This also kept the dogs from associating the downing of prey with eating. Also, on occasion the clan might come to eat a herd animal, and nobody wanted the dogs to learn that herd animals were food rather than something to guard.

We took up the first chunks of meat. The dogs were well trained not to snap or gulp or rush, but took the chunks from our fingers neatly. The only way to tell that the dogs were not just casually hungry was by how much they’d drooled when we’d drawn near with the bowls.

“That’s right,” Vikken encouraged, as I held a chunk out to Rinnala. “Put it flat on your hand, like it’s a plate for her, level with her shoulder so she can reach it without bobbing her head up or down. See how she takes it? Right neatly, yes? That’s right, wait for her to chew that one and swallow it down before you give her the next one. Don’t let her wolf it down! Slow and steady. Good, Kíli, you’ve got it right, even with double the work!”

Kíli was still giddy, and his chuckle was more of a giggle than anything else. “I don’t mind. I won’t ever mind. Here Mhornar, here’s yours. And yours is next, Alabrin. Yes, here it is!”

Kíli had stacked his bowls so that he didn’t have to hold them separately, and he doled out his chunks of meat to first one, then the other dog. They understood quickly that their routine had changed, and studied Kíli intently as he kept the meat coming. This was prime meat, too, not scraps or offal, but the same quality as what we’d eat for our supper before long. It struck me how much the clan valued their dogs, feeding them on par with the Dwarves. For a nomad group to include so many metal bowls in their baggage when weight and space was at a premium also revealed how much the dogs were valued. Mere pets would not merit such indulgences; only working, contributing partners would. I couldn’t wait to see these wolfhounds in action.

As the dogs finished their meal, the hunters drifted off one by one, many offering words to Kíli and me as well as to each other. Kíli was the last one done, as expected, given that he had two mouths to feed, but not by much. He’d quickly sorted out how to dole out one chunk to Mhornar, then the next to Alabrin while Mhornar chewed, then the next to Mhornar while Alabrin chewed, and so on. Rinnala and I drew away as we were directed, but we waited nearby for Kíli to finish. He carried his empty bowls to the big kettle full of steaming water, dunked them by their hanging thongs into the kettle to wash off the blood, and then rehung them on the line. This, as nothing else, proved how important the dogs were to the clan. Their bowls were kept scrupulously clean – far cleaner, in fact, than most lads kept their things or themselves! That gave me something else to smile about as Kíli thanked Vikken for his instruction, and rejoined me.

“What do we do now?” Kíli asked me, each hand on the shoulder of a dog. He was still smiling. I don’t think he’d stopped since we’d seen the first dog.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I need the necessary, that’s the most important thing.”

“Me, too.”

“We’ll take care of that, first, and then see if there’s anything we’re supposed to do before we eat.”

“All right. Where is it?”

“I don’t know. Though if I had to guess, I’d think it’d be downwind, don’t you?”

“Seems sensible.”

I pointed. “Then we should go that way.”

We ventured off. The camp wasn’t that large that we couldn’t circle it in a matter of moments, so before long we found the thing itself. It was nothing more than a couple of trenches, so we left our liquid offering without demur. Then, mindful of our dogs’ need for quiet after they ate, we walked very slowly the rest of the way around the camp, just watching everyone bustling around.

“I wonder if the dogs sleep with us at night?” Kíli wondered.

I considered. “I don’t know. How cold does it get in the winter? Can the dogs stay out in the cold all night?”

“I don’t know, either. If they don’t sleep with us, we’d better find out where they do sleep, and how we’re supposed to get them there.”

“All good questions. Look, we’re almost back around to where the dogs eat. We’ll ask Vikken.”

We found him in the middle of the unattached hounds, seeing to a young dog that’d been injured in a fight with a wolf. It had been the result of inexperience, and he’d been lucky the wolf hadn’t done worse than leave a long gash down his flank. Fortunately, he would recover before long. After offering appropriate murmurs of concern, we posed our questions to the Master of Hounds.

“Derfrulia put you in the family tent, did she? In the hunters’ tents, most keep their dogs with them, and that’s best. But you’ll have to see what she wants done in her own tent.”

“If we can’t, where are they to sleep?” Kíli asked in concern, his brow wrinkling.

“They’ve been happy enough with the other unattached, but likely they won’t settle for that now,” Vikken replied. “Go see yon maid, then, and here’s hoping she’ll make a place at the hearth for them. If she does, here’s what you need to know to keep the peace.”

We got another lesson, this one on the commands to invite a dog inside a tent and show him or her the hunter's place, and how a dog told the hunter when a trip outside was needed. Wolfhounds tended to be placid loungers when they weren’t working, and were generally well behaved under canvas. So we headed away again to find Derfrulia to ask about bringing our dogs into the tent.

“I hope Derfrulia likes dogs,” Kíli murmured plaintively, as we walked between the tents. “I think my heart will break if they have to stay outside.”

“Mine, too. Look, there she is.”

We found her talking with some of the other Dwarves, sorting out clan business, from the sound of it, so Kíli and I and our three dogs stood to the side until the Dwarves had come to some conclusion and gone their separate ways. We approached with a wave and a hello.

“Derfrulia, would you rather we keep Rinnala, Alabrin, and Mhornar out of the family tent, or are they welcome inside?” I asked in my most diplomatic voice, trying not to let it sound like pleading. I don’t think my efforts came to much, for the horse maid laughed, her copper earrings swaying from her amusement.

“And risk our two newest hunters dying of want?” she teased. “No, you can welcome them inside, but they’ll behave themselves, or they will have to make do elsewhere. Did Vikken tell you how to ask them in and such?”

Kíli and I nodded quickly.

“Good enough. Be sure to tell Cyth before you bring them trotting in, and make sure they know where your places are. You’ll need more space, so take the place next to yours towards the door and divide it between you. That’ll give you enough room for two Dwarves and three dogs.”

“That’s wonderful,” Kíli beamed. “Stellar. Did you hear that, Mhornar, Alabrin? You get to stay in the tent with us!”

“Thank you, Derfrulia,” I hastened to say, and Kíli fumbled to voice his thanks atop mine.

“Wait until one of those noble beasts tries to steal your blankets on a cold night, and see if you still want to thank me,” she cautioned. “Go settle your places now, before supper. Once everyone finds out you brought your fiddles, you won’t get a moment’s peace.”

“Right away!” Kíli exclaimed, and grabbed my arm. “Come on, Fíl!”

Grinning, I grabbed Kíli’s arm in return. “Slowly, Kíl. The dogs just ate, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right – they have. All right, then, slowly we go.”

We took the few steps to the family tent, and I ducked inside to warn Cyth. The maid didn’t blanch, but nodded as if she’d expected as much. So I beckoned Kíli inside, and we quickly took over the extra space, arranging our pallets and pillows and packs accordingly before going back out to the dogs. As before, the trio sat expectantly outside. I gave Kíli an anticipatory look.

“You first,” Kíli offered. “You’re the eldest.”

“All right. Rinnala, come in.”

She got up and followed me inside, settling at the foot of my pallet when I pointed there. “Home, Rinnala. Home. Come ahead, Kíl.”

Kíli appeared with his dogs close behind him, and he pointed to his space beside me. “Home, Mhornar. Home, Alabrin. This is home.”

Cyth cast Kíli a surprised look. “Two? You have two?”

Kíli’s grin swept over his face. “I know – I’m the luckiest Dwarf hunter that ever was, aren’t I?”

Cyth shook her head, laughing silently. “That’s what you think. Twice the mischief, I’d say.”

I snickered. “Kíli’s the right one for that, then. Maybe the dogs will keep him straight.”

“Doubtful. That Mhornar’s got a mind of her own. And Alabrin? He’s a prankster.”

Kíli sat between his dogs and put an arm around each one. “I don’t care what either of you say. I’m the happiest Dwarf in Middle Earth that ever was, and ever will be.”

The enigmatic Mhornar looked at Alabrin and smirked, well aware that my little brother would be her devoted slave now and forever more.

A cold nose poked its way under my hand. Automatically, I began to scratch a pair of long, furry ears, entranced when Rinnala’s jaws gaped in a smile. It seemed that I was just as enslaved as Kíli.

 

* * *

 

If my stomach hadn’t been so empty, I could have happily spent all evening on my pallet with Mhornar and Alabrin, reveling in their soft fur, their soulful eyes, their funny openmouthed grins, and their persistent nosing when I paused in my rubbing. But I was hungry, very much so, and my stomach growled insistently to remind me of how long it’d been since I’d scarfed down Cyth’s biscuit. Thankfully, the call soon came for supper outside. Cyth told my brother and me that the usual routine was to have supper around the tent hearth, but in honor of Derfrulia and Yanna’s return tonight would feature a communal meal. Cyth had baskets full of the fruit biscuits to bring, so she enlisted us to carry them as we walked out of the tent with her, our fiddles slung over our shoulders and our dogs trotting behind. Once we put her baskets with the other dishes, we turned the dogs loose to range around the camp, then joined the other Dwarves in helping ourselves to stew, slices of roasted antelope, the biscuits, and the tea with the ever-present _ceigeach ìm_. There was also a big bowl of seared liver, which was nothing like what Maamr made. This was crispy and highly spiced on the outside, and nearly raw on the inside, but delicious, even if it wasn’t what I was used to. I surely looked ridiculous with a mountain of everything piled into my eating bowl, as well as a leg bone with meaty tidbits left over from the roasting, but I was too hungry to care what anyone thought. I scarfed the entire mound down and went back for more.

The only thing I didn’t venture to try was the dubious-looking bowl of milky liquid something. Someone told me that it was fermented mare’s milk, but I didn’t like the way it smelled, so stuck to the bitter, oily tea. Fíli was no keener to try it than I was, so I didn’t feel odd about passing it by. That just left more room for all the delicious meat, to my lights.

Supper was a cheerful time as everyone chatted and snacked. Several folk talked to me, and I thought how different this was from gatherings in Thorin’s Halls, which I tended to avoid for obvious reasons. No one was as ugly as I was, but it didn’t seem to matter, likely because of our dogs. Even in Thorin’s Halls it was said that many animals sensed the true heart of a Dwarf, and couldn’t be fooled by pretty words or a false smile. Because the wolfhounds had deemed Fíli and me worthy, so the Dwarves seemed to, also.

Once the avalanche of eating had slowed, folk brought out flutes, drums, and even a simple kind of lute, and we had our first sample of clan music. It tended towards rounds, where one person started the tune and others joined in, and as the players came and went, the tune changed. After a while, Derfrulia beckoned to Fíli and me.

“Would you favor us with something new, lads?”

“It would be our pleasure,” my brother bowed to her. We brought out our fiddles, which sent a murmur around the group. We tuned quickly, but rather than limbering up with scales as was our usual, we played a slow duet that we both liked. That was well received, so as our fingers loosened, we tried a bit of call and response, where Fíli played one line and I followed with the next. Fíli had a good ear for music, so he sketched a tune close to what we’d heard from the flutes and whistles, and I followed. We kept repeating it, and as we hoped, the others joined in, and we made a merry din. Those who didn’t play an instrument clapped or hummed along, and a few got up to dance in the firelight. It had been a while since I’d played so much, and my fingers were sore before long, but it didn’t mind. It was fun to listen to the other players, and to hear our familiar tunes turned ever so slightly exotic with a different drumbeat or harmony.

As I expected, Fíli eventually got that look on his face that meant he wanted me to push him to a faster or more ornate version of something, so off we went, seeing who could add the fanciest trill or fastest embellishment. We were both laughing so hard by the time we were done that I could hardly play. When my fingers finally cramped past me loosening them, I held up a hand in surrender.

“That’s all for me,” I breathed, shaking my hand. “Time for someone else to take a turn!”

I was gratified to hear groans of disappointment, but I really couldn’t play another note, so the flutes took up the challenge. I wiped my fiddle carefully and put it back in its bag as I listened to the music swirl on. Before much longer, though, the music grew quieter, and one last song went up. There were words to this song, about the wide steppe sky above and the vast stretch of grasses below, and the clan between them both. It was a reverent piece, and I hoped I’d hear it again soon to learn it for myself. As it faded away, everyone sat quietly to finish tea or a last biscuit, or to murmur the end of a story to a neighbor. Folk drifted away without loud fanfare, either to stand watch or to find their blankets. Now that the excitement of the day was over, I was ready to find my blankets, too, and quickly, before I fell asleep where I sat.

Derfrulia wished the Dwarf next to her a good rest, and rose to come to our sides. “Thank you, lads. It was good to hear some new things tonight. They’ll be welcome many nights after this one.”

I yawned as Fíli clambered to his feet. As he held out an arm to pull me up, he said, “It was fun. We’ll happily play anytime you like.”

“Me, too,” I mumbled, trying to smother another yawn.

Derfrulia chuckled. “We’ve worn you out, I see. To your blankets, then, dogs and all. Sleep yourselves out tomorrow morn, or until your dogs won’t wait for their breakfast any longer. Work starts tomorrow in earnest.”

“We’ll be ready,” Fíli assured her, but he couldn’t quite smother a yawn at the end, which made me snicker. He was good-natured about it, and shrugged as if to say he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t, and neither could I, so he called to Rinnala, and I beckoned to Mhornar and Alabrin, and they glided out of the darkness to nose us in welcome. We collected Cyth, and then Yanna, and filed into the family tent one by one. As I left my boots by the door, I was vaguely aware of other Dwarves easing into their places around the tent, but I was too tired to regard them with much curiosity. There would be time to meet everyone properly tomorrow. I stripped off my tunic and trews, flopped down onto my pallet, and got the dogs arranged so that they were comfortable. They seemed to prefer lying on either side of me, and Rinnala lay to Fíli’s far side, so we were well protected with Alabrin between us, and the two maids on the outside. I pulled up my blanket, plumped my pillow, and took a deep breath. As I let it out, I relaxed every muscle.

“Fíli?” I whispered.

“What?”

“I love it here.”

“So do I.”

“Thank you for coming with me.”

“Thank you for wanting me to. I wouldn’t trade today for anything.”

I grinned. “Nor would I.”

“Sleep well.”

“You, too.”

I heard Fíli whisper a good night to Rinnala, so I gave Mhornar and Alabrin one more caress apiece. “Sleep well, beauties. Tomorrow, we’re going to run.”

Two noses touched my hair, then slender heads came to rest on slender paws. Mhornar gave a sigh, and Alabrin shifted slightly before he sighed as well.

If either of them did anything else, I didn’t know. I fell into sleep before another moment passed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to get to work, so Fíli and Kíli have their first lesson in herding and hunting. They also meet a few of their fellow herders and hunters, and have their first race across the grass. All is going splendidly... until visitors appear. Unwelcome visitors, if the scowl on Yanna's face means anything.
> 
> Yanna, however, is not the only member of Clan Kahgli to venture an opinion about the approaching party.

For a long moment, I didn’t know where I was when I woke up. This wasn’t my bed piled with quilts and curtained against the sunlight. I didn’t smell Maamr cooking her fried egg. I didn’t hear the tap of branches against the roof. I smelled... something like tea? My blanket smelled of wool, but not the wool I was used to. I sat up in a rush, rubbing my eyes, blinking the sleep out of them as I looked around...

Something cold poked me in the back, drawing a flinch out of me. I twisted around –

Golden amber eyes, bright and concerned even in the dimness, met mine, eyes in a long, narrow head covered with long, thick, creamy fur... Rinnala! Of course! Rinnala, the beautiful wolfhound that had chosen me yesterday; how could I forget her? Yesterday’s excitement flooded back, and I relaxed. I grinned at Rinnala’s quizzical look, and bent over to give her a hug.

“Good morn, Rinnala, my sweetness. How are you? Patiently waiting for me to rouse? I think it’s late, isn’t it?”

Rinnala’s eyes softened, and she gave me a lick, but seemed willing to let me have a few moments to stretch and take in my surroundings. Yes, there was Kíli lying on the next pallet, still solidly asleep. I smothered a giggle; my brother had started the night with his smalls on, but sometime since then he’d shed them, as was his usual practice. He didn’t like the encumbrance of clothes while he slept, and so he lay curled with his back towards me, his pale skin waxing bright from shoulders to backside. I tsked; only a strip of black, wavy mane traced his spine from neck to the bottom of his ribs, rather than the usual thick, all-enveloping pelt of Dwarvish hair, which only emphasized how thin he was. Even in a dim tent, his ribs stood out, which is why he only slept bare; he never went without a tunic, even around the house during the hottest summer, because he thought clothes made him look a little less emaciated. I hoped no one in Clan Kahgli thought to make something of it. For now, Kíli was oblivious, his legs tangled in his blanket as he snuggled into Mhornar’s back with one arm thrown over the dog’s body. The dog herself seemed as deep in slumber as my brother did. Alabrin, however, raised his head to regard me. I reached out to pat him.

“Good morn, Alabrin. My brother’s never an early riser, you’ll find. And when he does, you’ll have to be patient with him until he warms that long body of his.”

Alabrin looked back at Kíli, but graciously accepted my pat even so. I grinned, and leaned over to find the tunic I’d shed last night. It was crumpled at the foot of my pallet, but was no worse for it, so I pulled it over my head.

Surprisingly, Kíli stirred. He rolled over to lie flat, and for a moment I thought he’d fall back to sleep. But his eyes fluttered open and his breath deepened, and he sat up on his elbows to look around. He didn’t look at me, but up, and likely was going through the same disorientation I did a moment ago. He frowned, then rolled towards Mhornar without really seeing her. He clambered to his feet stiffly with a soft grunt.

I leaned over to reach Kíli’s smalls. “Kíl,” I murmured softly, which drew him around with a questioning grunt. When I tossed him his smalls, he caught them automatically, then his face spasmed in embarrassment. He gave a quick look around, but the only other Dwarf in the tent was Cyth, and her back was to us. Kíli yanked on his smalls, fell to his knees to grope for his tunic, and hurriedly pulled it on.

“I forgot where I was,” he confessed in a barely audible whisper. “Valar!”

“You’re in your blankets, remember? No one cares whether you sleep bare or not.”

“You cared enough to toss my smalls at me.”

I blinked. Kíli had a point, so I looked at him in contrition. “You’re right. I didn’t give you the courtesy. I will from now on.”

Kíli sat back on his heels. “I... you don’t have to. We’re brothers. This is our space, not yours and mine. If you want to.”

I nodded. “I’d like that. But if either of us want the privacy for a little while, we can say so, and no one will get angry.”

Kíli returned my nod with his own. “All right. That’s fair.”

He relaxed again, and looked around. He registered the two dogs that quietly watched him, and a big smile enveloped his face. “I didn’t dream about yesterday, then. Did I? Mhornar and Alabrin are right here, aren’t you?”

Kíli got a face washing whether he wanted one or not, but he was still as giddy about his companions as he had been yesterday, and enveloped both of them in an impulsive hug. “I can’t believe I didn’t dream you both. I can’t.”

Rinnala’s nose found its way under my hand; she wanted her due, too, which I quickly and gladly provided.

“Do we feed them now?” Kíli asked, looking over Alabrin’s shoulder at me. “I mean, they haven’t romped yet, and they’ve been calm, so we should feed them, yes?”

“We’d better go find out. I need the necessary in the worst way, anyway.”

Kíli winced. “I didn’t, until you said it. Now I do. Where are my trews?”

We drew on trews and fastened belts, and folded our blankets as seemed to be the habit of the tent. We bade Cyth a quick good morn as we pulled on our boots, which she met with a smile as she tended her pots. “Good morn, lads. See to your dogs and yourselves, then come back for your breakfast. I’ve kept the porridge warm for you.”

“We will,” I assured her, offering her a bow. “That was sweet of you.”

She made much of our politeness with a coy look and a laugh, then shooed us out. We hurried to the necessary to tend to that urgency. I was amused to see the dogs all trot out past the Dwarvish trenches to deal with their own needs, then hurry back to poke and prod us towards Vikken’s line. We fed our dogs as we’d learned the night before, but there was a something new to learn this morn. Vikken handed us each a small brush for us to keep the dogs’ coats free of snarls and burs. He showed us how to brush their coats in the direction of the fur, and not too hard or soft. Rinnala and Alabrin’s coats were easy, but Kíli would have to be careful with Mhornar’s, as it grew in every direction. It even grew from back to front along her spine, which I’d never seen in a dog before. We did a quick onceover of each dog, as Vikken showed us. We’d have to keep close watch on their paws, too, especially in winter, and trim the fur between their toes carefully so they wouldn’t clog with ice and dirt. Mhornar allowed me to help Kíli with her coat, sitting patiently as we did our best. Rinnala and Alabrin sat nearby as if to say they thought we needed more practice, but Vikken said we’d seen to it enough to earn our breakfast. We’d have to pay better attention tonight before we bedded down. We thanked him for his help, then turned for the family tent to get our breakfast.

Kíli hesitated beside me. I sensed it without having to see it, and looked for the source of his wariness. A few Dwarves had been watching us working with our dogs, but they nodded and smiled at us without malice. Behind them was only the circle of tents with the grasses beyond. The bustle around the camp wasn’t at the frenzy of last night, but several more Dwarves went to and fro, few of which looked our way. Nothing looked particularly threatening, but I slowed.

“Kíl?” I breathed.

“Nothing. Nothing,” he whispered back, and resumed walking.

“What?” I persisted.

“Everything looks different this morn.”

“Different how?”

“It’s... not dark now.”

I sorted that out fast enough. Kíli had been easier meeting so many strangers last night because it had been dark, which he thought made him look less noticeable. In the bright light of morn, though, there was no hiding his height, his thinness, or his strange looks, and he was nervous. Indeed, both hands were on his dogs, and they looked up at him in concern.

“Don’t worry. Dogs don’t lie. Nothing else matters now that they’re with you.”

Kíli swallowed, but nodded at my reassurance, and schooled his face into neutrality. He’d learned fast enough that any sign of apprehension only drew more bullies, so he paced with me back to the tent with studied ease. He loosened a bit when a Dwarf or two nodded to us with friendly smiles, or waves, or a polite note of our names.

“See? It’s fine,” I said, as we came to the tent.

“All right.” His brow wrinkled. “Why are we stopping? I’m hungry.”

“So am I. But do we turn the dogs loose while we eat? Or let them rest in our space?”

Kíli considered. “I don’t know. But if they’re supposed to rest after they eat, then maybe they do so in our space?”

“That’s as good a place for them as any,” I shrugged. “We’ll do that, and ask Cyth if that’s right.”

Kíli stood aside, indicating that I was to go first. That was the way things normally worked in Thorin’s Halls, as I was older, but it had never set well with me. Still, Kíli always deferred, and it seemed to cause him no trouble to do so, so I took it as one of the many ways he showed his affection for me. We escorted the dogs to our space, then came to the hearth.

“Are we allowed to bring them into the tent while we eat?” I asked Cyth, before we sat down. “Or do they stay outside except at night?”

“If so, we can take them out again,” Kíli offered.

“Many like to bring them inside before and after they eat,” was Cyth’s quick reply. “So let them be, as long as they behave. Now, eat up. You especially, Kíli. That long body of yours has to fill in.”

Kíli reddened a bit, but he held out his bowl without comment.

Cyth was no less perceptive than her daughter, and eyed Kíli as she ladled out the thick porridge. “Ah. You be town Dwarves, yes?”

I settled my bowl in my lap. “We are. Is it that obvious?”

My plaintive words drew a soft chuckle from the old Dwarf maid. “Honey’s in the brown crock. Milk’s in the pitcher.”

“Any raisins?” Kíli blurted, then reddened again. “I mean... just to ask, you know...”

“No raisins,” Cyth shook her head, rising from her cross-legged seat in one smooth, effortless motion. She was nearly as slender as Kili, like a lissome maid rather than a seasoned dam, but she had almost completely white hair to prove her age. That long, white hair was wound in a series of long braids, and wrapped around her head to keep them out of her way as she worked over the fire and her kettles. She kept the long sleeves of her tunic rolled up past her elbows, and wore close-fitting men's trews, to keep herself safely away from the fire. A sleeveless overtunic on top kept food stains from the rest of her clothing, which she brushed off unconsciously as she rooted through the supplies arranged on a rack behind the hearth. When she chose a packet of something, she held it out to Kili. “But this might suit you. Dried blueberries.”

“Blueberries?” Kíli repeated, smiling.

“Oh, and oh,” I shook my head. “That was a mistake, Cyth. There will not be a blueberry left after Kíli’s done with breakfast.”

“There will, too,” Kíli protested, and moderated the number of the tiny, wizened fruits that he dumped into his porridge bowl. He followed them with a liberal dollop of honey and a thick stream of milk, then stirred everything together vigorously. “Mmm. This is delicious.”

Despite my teasing, I didn’t hesitate to sample the fruits, either, and Kíli was right about how good it was. The milk was likely mare’s milk, and the honey had a different sweetness than the sugar I was used to, but the blueberries were a sweet accompaniment that didn’t make me miss Maamr’s porridge. “It is,” I echoed Kíli’s sentiments.

Cyth nodded as if our reaction were no surprise. “I’ll toss a few into tomorrow’s pot for you. They’ll plump up and taste even better. Now, about you being town Dwarves. You are, yes?”

My brother and I exchanged glances, but nodded.

“Knew it, I did. You’ve both got nice manners. It’s always a pleasure to have a young lad offer me a smile, a bow, and a nice greeting. Good to know some clans still hold with such things. Which clan claims you?”

“Durin,” I said.

Cyth’s eyebrows went up. “Durin, is it? Then you be Thorin Oakenshield’s kin?”

I nodded. “Sister’s sons.”

“The two heirs, then.”

Kíli’s eyes darted to mine, but I nodded impassively.

“And why are Durin’s heirs out here?” Cyth asked, her eyes on Kíli.

Before I could think of a good answer, Kíli spoke. “Because of me. Because I’m...”

He spoke calmly, but though he couldn’t bring himself to say the last word, he gestured with his spoon at himself. Cyth’s speculation softened, and she folded her hands in her lap and nodded. “Thought so. You turned red when I said how tall you were, and I can fathom the rest. Town Dwarves are like that. Horse clans, most of ‘em, anyway, aren’t like that. On the grass, tall is good. You’ll be able to handle even the big horses. They’re not tall Elvish steeds, by any means, but they’re two, three hands taller than ponies. Derfrulia tells me you’re a rare hand with your bow. That’s good on the grass, too. The dogs took your measure faster than usual, and they don’t lie. Not seen anyone with two for some years. Your pair’s two of the best, too. So there’s nothing to turn red about on our account, young Kíli.

“Don’t you think less of yourself, either, Fíli,” she continued, waving the porridge ladle at me. “That Rinnala’s nobility, she is, and doesn’t she know it? She knows quality when she sees it, and you are. Hear you’re a good archer, too, and a better bladesman. Both of you have nothing to fear from our lot. Sort yourselves out well in the trials, and you’ll be all right.”

Kíli’s face was still bright red, and he swallowed down his porridge with difficulty. “Th-thank you,” he mumbled. “Thank you.”

“I thank you, as well,” I put my palms together and bowed to her over my bowl. “That’s why we’re here. Because the horse clans value different things.”

“Bad, was it?” Cyth’s hazel eyes met mine.

I nodded. “This will be better. It’s already better. Yesterday was one of the best days of my life.”

“It was _the_ best day of my life,” Kíli blurted, then dropped his eyes to his bowl and stuffed a huge spoonful of porridge in his mouth to cover his embarrassment.

Cyth laughed as she reached for the kettle to pour tea into the small cups on a tray by the hearth She waved us on to take them. “No surprise. The dogs’ choosing... not much tops that.”

“You had one, then?” Kíli mumbled through his porridge.

“I did, indeed,” she avowed with a proud grin. Her spine straightened a bit, and she nodded emphatically, and I could easily imagine her on a steppe pony, overseeing the herds. She pointed to a basket covered with a cloth, so each of us took a roll. It was stuffed with meat, and still warm. “Ten, altogether, but not for some years. I left the herding and the hunting to spryer bones when my sweet Issigit passed. Choosing is always special, even once you’ve had more than one dog. Nothing like that first cold nose in the back on a winter’s morn.”

Kíli and I laughed as she stuffed us as full as we’d let her, which was very, very full. I finally held up a hand when she pointed to the basket of stuffed rolls again. “They’re delicious, but if I eat any more of them, I’ll crush the next pony I have to ride.”

“ _You_ won’t,” Cyth said sternly to Kíli, who tried to look reluctant, but failed miserably. Maamr had never found a moment when Kíli couldn’t stuff one more mouthful of something down his throat, but Cyth didn’t know that yet. She nodded approvingly as he took two more rolls and engulfed them in three bites.

“He’s a challenge,” I warned her with a fond grin.

“No, I’m not,” Kíli’s smile was half proud, half silly. “I’m just hungry.”

“All the time,” I snorted.

“So?” Kíli shrugged, still smiling. “Cyth says she doesn’t care how hungry I am. She’ll still feed me.”

“So I will,” Cyth said. “Finish your tea, then you’re to find Derfrulia. She’s out on the south reaches this morn to begin lessons.”

Tea was duly drunk, last rolls were swallowed down, and we offered Cyth our bows for tending to us so thoroughly, which pleased her. We called our wolfhounds and left the hearth for the outside.

“South is that way,” Kíli pointed, stroking Mhornar. He had a better innate sense of direction than many, which had never surprised me. It was part of what made Kíli so good with animals – he had many of the same sensitivities as they did, which was another reason he was more comfortable out in the natural world than around folk. One of the worst parts about the bullies’ predations was that he had lost a refuge, because it had grown too dangerous for him to retreat outside as often as he would have liked. Being pent inside wasn’t a good substitute, only a safe one. But this morn, there was nothing that would take the outdoors from us, and we both looked forward to enjoying ourselves under the sun.

We hadn’t gotten but a few steps away from the family tent when a small figure got to his feet and approached us. The wolfhound that had lain beside him stayed where he was, but kept us under his patient regard.

“Fíli and Kíli?”

“That’s us,” I said amiably.

“I’m Klyn. That’s Kulazhath.”

“Glad to meet you,” I bowed in the clan style, and Kíli did likewise as we named our dogs. The Dwarf’s eyebrows went up in surprise, but he returned our greeting. He seemed only a little older than me, perhaps thirty, and he was shorter than usual, and thinner, though not to rival Kíli. His hair was almost as dark as Kíli’s and not more than six inches longer. His skin was almost as pale as Kíli’s, too, but his eyes were light blue like mine. He had long mustaches, but his cheeks and chin were clean-shaven. His clothes were well worn, without the bright embroidery so many fancied, but no dirtier than any other lad's, and his manner was diffident. Still, the long knife sheathed on his thigh and the serviceable bow rig at his back were good quality, and he carried them as if they had been a part of him for many years.

“I was watching for you both,” Klyn told us. “To take you to the training when you got up. You’ll want your bow rigs, and whatever blades you usually carry.”

“I’ll get them,” Kíli slid a glance at me. “Be right back. Alabrin, Mhornar, wait, please.”

His dogs sat beside Rinnala, but craned their heads around to watch Kíli run back to the tent. They looked so funny that I snickered. “He’ll be just a moment, you. Don’t worry.”

“Kíli’s your brother, then?” Klyn asked.

“My one and only,” I agreed with a smile. “A better brother you won’t find anywhere. But don’t tell him that. Might give him a melon head.”

Klyn’s expression was mystified. “A... melon head?”

“Yes... you know, he might think much of himself if he knew how fond I am of him. Oh... maybe there aren’t any melons out here?”

Klyn shrugged uncertainly. “I don’t know. What is it?”

“It’s a large fruit, bigger than your head. It’s a joke, to say someone has a melon head. It means you’ve got a mushy brain full of nothing but seeds.”

His face cleared, and he smiled shyly. “Oh. Then no, I’ve never seen a melon. On the grass, we say someone’s got a head riper than a dead goat’s belly. Because when a goat dies, its belly blows up, and...”

“And it splatters all over any fool who pokes it,” I finished. “We know about that, too. Though it’s usually sheep we have around us. Not as many goats.”

Klyn nodded understanding. “He doesn’t seem like a melon head. Your brother.”

“He’s not at all. He’s my best friend. So... do you have kin here, too?”

Klyn shrugged. “By marriage. I’m a hunter, like you and your brother. This is my first year.”

“First year here, or first as a hunter?”

“First as a hunter. I’ve seen to the unattached dogs for three years, though.”

 Kíli came running back with our gear. He had his bow rig on his back and his blades sheathed, and had mine in his hands. As I buckled on the sword I’d gotten the day Kíli had been beaten so badly, Klyn pointed to it.

“That’s a nice blade.”

“Thanks. She’s a beauty,” I agreed with a smile.

“Fíli had to work his ass off twice to get it,” Kíli smiled proudly, passing me the last of my knives, then my bow rig. “Maybe three times.”

I was humbled at the clear pride in my brother’s voice, and felt my face get hot. I put the last of my blades away and put my bow rig over my shoulder, and pretended not to see Klyn’s impressed look.

“How – how many knives do you have?” the Dwarf asked.

Kíli giggled. “At least a dozen. And he’s good with every one of them. He’s got a gift with steel.”

“And you do, too, with arrows,” I said, trying to dismiss some of my discomfort. “So, where are we supposed to go, Klyn?”

He waved a hand away from the camp. “Out there. We’ll need ponies.”

“Let’s go, then,” I agreed, and Klyn headed us towards one of the small pens outside of the camp. We got a trio of ponies from the master, saddled and bridled them, and then Klyn pointed the way over the grass. We called to the dogs, and started off.

As the four hounds raced ahead of us, Kíli looked back at the camp to get his bearings, then urged his pony to a canter. As Mhornar and Alabrin zoomed ahead, Kíli’s excitement got the better of him. He let out an exuberant yell and urged his pony into its fastest gallop after the dogs, dashing ahead of Klyn. I raced after him, making as much noise as he did. Klyn caught our excitement to barrel even with us. Ahead, the four dogs stretched out to their fullest, clearly as delighted as we were to tear across the grass.

After a few moments, when I sensed my pony laboring, I slowed to a canter, then a trot. Ahead of me, Kíli raced in a circle around me, laughing as he never did on the ground. How different this was from the day he’d fled the armory, in such despair that he wanted to die! I swallowed hard, asking the Valar to keep this much life in Kíli’s heart, and never let it fall so low again.

Despite Kíli’s excitement, he would never let it harm an animal, and he drew up beside me with his eyes dancing. “ _Comys thoyn_ , Fíl! Oh and oh, that was fun! Yah!”

“Yah!” I laughed, and beside Kíli, Klyn laughed, too. “Valar, yah! Did you see the dogs? They’re even faster than the ponies!”

“I’ve never seen anything that fast before!” Kíli yelled. “Never!”

My brother threw back his head and howled out his exuberance, ululating as the horse clan folk had done last night. It was a wild, wavering racket, and I couldn’t help but get swept up in his elation, and soon both of us were laughing uncontrollably.

“This is the best pony ride ever!” Kíli shouted. “Oh, Mahal, Fíli, I can’t hold it all. I can’t!”

Klyn looked back and forth at us like we were mad, smiling incredulously at our silliness, but I was unapologetic. Still, I spotted other ponies and folk in the distance ahead of us, so pointed at them.

“Better take hold of yourself, brother. There are folk out there, and it probably wouldn’t be a good idea for us to come racing up to them like a pair of gibbering fools. Klyn, you didn’t know you’d be escorting a pair of fools, did you?”

“It was fun,” Klyn breathed, looking back and forth between us as if he meant it. “So I suppose we’re a trio of fools.”

Kíli was still laughing. “Oh, good! We’ve got someone else to be fools with. That’s stellar!”

“Maybe so?” I asked, looking at Klyn, who looked at me hopefully, then nodded quickly.

“Yes! And... maybe my mate Barkhuzi, too?”

“Even better,” I grinned. “We’ll get ourselves through lessons, then maybe we can meet your friend. Or will he be out here, too?”

“He is.” Klyn shaded his eyes, then pointed. “That’s him on the brown pony with the white back leg. His dog’s the curly white and grey one. Neyshath.”

Barkhuzi was a stocky Dwarf with deep red hair he kept in two thick braids, and a big scarf wound around and around his head. I’d never seen a Dwarf with such a head topper, but Barkhuzi wasn’t the only one sporting such a thing; rather, more of the Dwarves riding around with their dogs wore it than not. Maybe it was a clan habit. I spotted Derfrulia and Yanna in the middle of the lot, and so pointed them out to Kíli and Klyn.

“I guess we tell Derfrulia we’re here?” I asked Klyn, and he agreed quickly, so off we rode towards the horse maids. When Yanna saw us coming, she spoke to her grandmother, who turned to see us ride up.

“Good morn, Fíli and Kíli! Klyn brought you along in good time, then. You’re well limbered this morn from your ride, yes?”

Kíli managed to smother his gleeful laugh. “We are,” I said, smiling.

“Good lads! All right, do a couple of circuits around with your dogs, and then we’ll start your lessons.”

We did as directed, Klyn coming with us. He waved to his friend Barkhuzi, who rode over to join us. We didn’t get to exchange any more than greetings, but Barkhuzi had a ready smile and seemed glad to meet us. He seemed older than Klyn by a few years, perhaps in his mid thirties or early forties. His ease on a pony was enviable, as if he’d ridden for years and years, and his bow looked well used. The four of us made a couple of wide circuits on the grass, dogs cavorting around us, keeping Derfrulia and Yanna in the center. When Yanna waved all of the riders in, we slowed to a walk and drew near.

The rest of the morn was spent explaining the basics about herding goats, ponies, and horses. A few Dwarves had dogs I hadn’t seen yesterday, not wolfhounds but smaller herding dogs. They’d be the ones who’d do the biggest part of the herding, rather than the wolfhounds. We’d see more of these dogs and their handlers in the coming days; they were currently moving the clan’s herds west towards us and the new grass. In a pinch, our wolfhounds could herd, though it didn’t come naturally to them, so this training was as much to familiarize them with the commands for that as we Dwarves. Most of the dogs had been through this before, but as it was the nature of wolfhounds to pursue animals as prey, they needed frequent and firm reminders of how to herd goats rather than bring them down. We had to be sharp and pay close attention, constantly reminding them to herd, herd, herd. They also had to refamiliarize themselves with ignoring a herding completely when they were on wolf patrol.

In comparison, getting a wolfhound to pursue a wolf and bring it down took but a single command. This was, after all, what they were bred to do, and they did it brilliantly. The wolfhounds’ job while hunting was to pursue a wolf, drive it from the herd, and keep it occupied until a Dwarf could kill it. The Dwarves’ job was to direct the dogs on the rare occasion that we spotted a wolf before the dogs did, and to kill the wolf. It was usually safer for us to kill the wolf rather than the dogs, because a cornered wolf would savage any dog it could catch, and they were too valuable to risk when we didn’t have to.

I liked learning the hunting part better than the herding, as it was more exciting. We got to practice directing our dogs to attack a dummy made of a stuffed wolf's skin and dragged a good distance behind a pony, then back off as we rode in to shoot the dummy. I did adequately at the shooting, but Kíli, as I expected, was brilliant. He was the best archer of all, bar none, and I was proud to see others notice his expertise.

We also practiced our blade work, always good to fall back upon if one ran out of arrows. I was glad to have my new sword and my favorite knives to hand, for they served me well during that part. I was on par or better than most of the others, which pleased me. Kíli gave a good accounting of himself, as well.

We stopped for a quick luncheon of stew and stuffed rolls, but were soon hard at it again. Today didn’t feature the trials themselves, but as good as, just for practice. I was confident that Kíli would be the best archer, both in speed and accuracy, of all of us. Barring a miraculous performance by another Dwarf I hadn’t seen yet, I’d be one of the top two or three bladesmen.

The last part of the afternoon saw us on foot, working with our dogs to do things such as direct them at a run, recognize hand signals, and so on. Like all sight hounds, our wolfhounds were generally easygoing, and not nearly as frantic as the smaller herding dogs. This made them excellent company, but not always the most diligent followers of directions. Unless quarry was before them, they could consider directions as more gentle requests than anything else, and this drove some Dwarves to distraction. I’d seen Kíli shrink at someone’s shout or harsh glare enough times to know that wolfhounds, like him, performed better with encouragement than harshness. And in truth, most of the wolfhound handlers knew that instinctively. There were none who glowered like Dwalin, or preferred control like Uncle. But a few handlers had to be reminded of that during the afternoon.

At one point, Alabrin gave the truth to Cyth’s characterization of him as a prankster. Instead of running in a loop the way Kíli directed him, he circled stealthily behind my brother and jumped up, pushing with his front paws to make Kíli stagger forward. Kíli’s reaction, when he saw Alabrin dancing away from him with a gaping smile, was to laugh uproariously. He called Alabrin to him, gave him a rough hug, and sent him out again to make the circle. This time, Alabrin did as he was asked, and savored another of Kíli’s delighted hugs.

Rinnala was a showy thing, doing most of what I asked of her the first time. But she pranced when all she needed to do was trot, and she seemed to know how to run into the wind at just the right angle to make her thick coat fluff about her like a cloud. There was no way to reprimand her, and no reason, as she did all that I asked. She just did it all... soaked in glamour. A fancy lass, indeed.

If Alabrin was a prankster, and Rinnala a saucy beauty, Mhornar was subtlety and finesse. When she moved, it was with eerie certainty, seemingly without effort. Perhaps she floated, for her paws seemed never to touch the ground. Kíli was different when he worked with her, too – not boisterous as he could be with Alabrin, and in fact he hardly used his voice at all. He and Mhornar seemed to understand each other through the hand signals almost at once, and it was amazing to watch them. Once, when Kíli got the complicated signals confused, Mhornar circled around, watching him, not closing in until he gave the correct sign. So in the truest sense, she was training him as much as the other way around.

It was interesting to watch the other Dwarves, as well. Like us, many of them were new to this – they were skilled hunters and archers, and good enough riders, but they hadn’t worked with dogs before. It helped me to know how to properly do something by watching the others try it, and we talked about things among ourselves to help each other along. All of the hunters seemed like good sorts, and not a one of them said anything to Kíl about being too tall, ugly, or thin. But between how good my brother’s bow had been this afternoon, and his quick study with Alabrin and Mhornar, there was no reason to comment about superficial things that didn’t matter to the job at hand.

We were about to collect the training dummies and targets and return to the camp when someone noticed a dusty cloud to the north. Was this the herders bringing the animals in? No, the cloud was a small one, something only a handful of ponies would make. I was standing next to Yanna when the cloud was spotted, and as it drew nearer, her face seemed to tighten. Derfrulia was impassive, but she seemed more alert than casual, too. One of the Dwarves still sitting his pony shaded his eyes and peered out, trying to identify the group. Beside me, Kíli was instantly aware of the undercurrent, and he had an arrow nocked in his bow, though it was pointed at the ground. I followed his example, not making too obvious a statement of it.

“Clan Urghul,” the Dwarf on the pony announced in a very terse voice.

Beside me, Yanna swore under her breath, and Derfrulia’s mouth twitched.

“That doesn’t sound good,” I murmured. “Friends or enemies?”

“That depends on the time of day and the direction of the wind,” she murmured back.

I gave her a look. “That sounds even worse.”

Her mouth twisted, and she might’ve spat if the six ponies hadn’t been close enough to see her do it. “Typical Clan Urghul,” she growled. “If that’s Ankulaz, then it’s not so bad. But if it’s Tobazel...”

“Who’re they?”

“Tobazel is head of Clan Urghul. Ankulaz is heir.”

“What kind of heir? Just a visitor, or... one seeking a clan alliance?”

Yanna didn’t answer with words, but the clench of her hand on her bow and the twitch of her jaw were answer enough.

“Which one is he?” I whispered, as the six riders drew close enough for us to make out their faces.

“Tobazel's on the solid white pony. Ankulaz's to his left.”

The six ponies were almost upon us. I glanced at Kíli, who watched the arriving Dwarves with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t think I like them,” Kíli said softly.

“Why not? They haven’t even stopped yet.”

“Mhornar.”

I took my eyes off the six approaching ponies to find Rinnala, Mhornar, and Alabrin. All three of them were on their feet, eyes on the ponies as if they were prey. But that wasn’t the most telling sign.

The subtle and mysterious Mhornar was growling.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Brothers Durin get a lesson in Dwarvish diplomacy, which is not diplomatic at all, even in the best of times. This is not the best of times, so it's expected that words between Clans Kahgli and Urghul will include more insults than compliments.
> 
> No one, however, expected Clan Urghul to echo such familiar insults. Have Kíli and Fíli come so far from Thorin's Halls, only to face the same evil?

Fíli leaned towards me, whispering me the names of two of the Dwarves who approached us. Tobazel lived up to his belligerent name – War Cry – for he was broad of chest and hefty of arm, with a wild shock of grey hair that he hadn’t bothered to twist into braids. It was so filthy that it had matted into ropes... or maybe he’d done it himself, because his beard and mustaches were twirled and twisted into the same ropes, split down the front, and looped back to twist into the ropes of his hair. His clothes weren’t foul, but they were dark, muddied browns and tans, with snarling horseheads stitched down the length of his tunic sleeves. A heavy leather cuirass atop his tunic had the same fierce stitching, with lightning bolts forming the manes of the horseheads. The matched axes riding in harness at his back were heavy, unbalanced things, more bludgeons than blades; Dwalin would glower to see such brutal things. The final unsettling touch was his helmet – too crown-like by halves. Uncle was the only Dwarf in the Blue Mountains who had the right and authority to wear a crown, but he never had. If my dogs’ animosity hadn’t already put me off this Dwarf, his presumptuous crown would have, for he was more coarse than kingly. All he proved was how much better a Dwarf my Uncle Thorin was, and how proud I was to be his sister’s son.

Tobazel’s heir, Ankulaz.... If it were possible, I liked him less than Tobazel, if for different reasons. The clan leader was someone I understood, having seen so many belligerent Dwarves in Thorin’s Halls. But where Tobazel was brutally direct, his heir was not so easily sorted out. He had this air of waiting, as if he wanted to see which side prevailed before he declared himself. I’d learned to be wary of such folk, for that fickleness was often misleading, if not outright dishonest.

Ankulaz was young, though still older than Fíli and me by about fifty years, so he’d likely just come into his majority. He wore hard-wearing trousers, boots, and tunic, similar to what so many in Clan Kahgli folk wore, and more utilitarian than his father’s. Still, the yoke of his tunic bore the same hard, intimidating symbology that his father liked. He had a necklace of sorts, a leather thong with small drops or figures interspersed along its length, but I was too far away to see what the charms represented, or even if they were all the same or different. I couldn’t see enough of his bow rig or blades to tell anything about his expertise or choice of weapons. His belt knife seemed to have a charm dangling from the hilt, but I was too far away to make out any details about that, either.

Ankulaz’s skin was likely pale, but the sun and wind had reddened and thickened it. His hair was also pale, far paler than that of anyone in Clan Kahgli, though it looked like coarse brass next to my brother’s paler and finer wheaten blond hair. Where Tobazel had merely twisted his hair together into hanks, Ankulaz had taken pains to work thick braids that lay flat against his skull from front to back and fell in a cascade down his back. Each braid was the formal clan heir pattern and ended in a bright blue clan bead, identical to the usual one at his left ear. I stifled a snort; such bragging was as vain as standing in the middle of a town center and screaming one’s name and rank over and over and over again.

His eyes, though, told me that he was more than a stuffed fool. They were a startling dark brown, almost black, much darker than normal for a Dwarf with such pale skin and hair. They were even darker than mine. I wondered if those eyes had earned him his name, Fear the Dark, for his gaze was unsettling, a piercing weight that I wouldn’t like to fall on me.

“Arrow, Kíl,” Fíli whispered. “Still nocked.”

I kept my eyes on the approaching Dwarves. “They haven’t given me a reason for it not to be.”

“No one else has one nocked.”

I looked sideways right and left, and Fíli was right that no one did. But most of the Dwarves except the newcomers looked daggers at Clan Urghul, and Yanna and Derfrulia’s alert stances didn’t encourage me to stand down.

“Derfrulia hasn’t given you a reason for it to stay nocked, either,” Fíli cautioned.

I waited a second, hoping one of the horse maids had heard us and would tell me to keep my arrow nocked, but they weren’t paying attention to the youngest and most inexperienced wolf hunter on the grass. Fíli was my older brother, my clan superior, so out of respect for him, I flicked the back of the arrow up and off the bowstring so that it rotated point down and vertically in my hand gripping the bow, passive, but ready in case I needed it. Other than that, I didn’t move. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Fíli’s faint smile. Unseating my arrow as I had was a bit of flash that spoke of my skill with a bow as much as it did of my respect for him, and that in turn spoke of my dislike of the approaching Dwarves. Fíli would have been within his rights to call me out, but he didn’t, which told me that he liked these Dwarves no more than I did. I kept my smirk to myself as the troupe of Clan Urghul Dwarves drew to a halt.

“Hail, Derfrulia,” Tobazel raised a hand in greeting. His son beside him made the same gesture, but he surveyed all before him, measuring us against some private tally. The four Dwarves with them were as rough-looking as the head of their clan, and they didn’t offer a greeting.

Derfrulia put her arms akimbo. “What do you want, Tobazel? You trespass Clan Kahgli’s lands, but then, you know that. What excuse makes you think I’ll ignore that trespass?”

Tobazel laughed as if Derfrulia had told him the funniest joke that had ever been mouthed. “And a warm welcome to ye, too, lass. Not a cup of tea or a bowl of stew in sight, I see.”

“There won’t be, either. Answer my question.”

Tobazel’s eyes twitched from Derfrulia to take in Yanna standing beside Fíli. “Maybe I’ll get a warmer welcome from yon winsome lass, ye think? Can ye muster a kinder greeting for yer biggest admirer, Yanna?”

Yanna held her grim gaze on the grinning Dwarf without a ruffle, but didn’t deign to speak. Ankulaz’s eyes bored into her without blinking, pointed enough to make many wilt, but Yanna ignored him as she met the clan leader’s eyes without hesitation or weakness.

“No? Nor a kind word for my son, either, I’m sure. Has Clan Kahgli has turned arrogance into a habit?”

“Is Clan Urghul too addled to answer a simple question? Or is that just as hard as recognizing the boundaries of trespass?”

Tobazel’s laugh was just as hearty as before. “Ach, lass, I do love a feisty maid, especially one who relishes grand repartee as much as I do.”

“Answer the question, or I’ll escort you to the border, willing or not.”

When Derfrulia raised her hand, every bow was bent on the intruders. I took that as license to do the same, and Fíli wasn’t much slower to take his bow up, too. Most arrows were targeted on the clan leader, but mine was on Ankulaz, even though he might seem milder than his father.

“Ye’re too easy to rile, Derfrulia,” Tobazel grinned as easily as if he didn’t see the two dozen arrows pointed at him and his party. “Too excitable by halves, but ye’re lucky that I like a little fire in a maid.”

Derfrulia didn’t drop her gaze as she waved to someone on her right. “If they haven’t headed back the way they came by the time someone brings my pony, I want six of you on each of them. Get them off their ponies, strip them bare, and tie them back on for the return trip. Seems cruel to make their ponies bear such burdens, but that can’t be helped.”

Someone went for Derfrulia’s pony. Clan Urghul’s leader kept his indulgently smug grin in place as the pony appeared and Derfrulia mounted.

“Clan Kahgli, as you will,” Derfrulia said in a calm voice.

As all of us moved forward, Ankulaz realized that we were not about to back down. He flicked that odd gaze on his father. “Father, enough,” he murmured, holding up his hand in conciliation. “Enough games.”

“Games? Tell her, why don’t ye? Tell her we’ve had enough of her childish –”

“ _Your_ childish antics, Tobazel,” Derfrulia snapped. “Either state what brought you here, or get ye gone.”

“Ye know why I’m here, don’t ye?” Tobazel growled. “Don’t play stupid with me. Ye be mighty quick to call the laws of trespass, but ye’ve conveniently forgotten the laws that negotiate alliance.”

“There is no alliance between us. There has never been any alliance between us. There has never been the negotiation of one, and there never will be.”

“And that’s none of my doing, is it?” Tobazel stuck his chin out belligerently. “Haven’t I offered Clan Kahgli a handsome settlement, to both our benefits?”

“Clan Kahgli has no interest in alliance with Clan Urghul.”

“And have ye had other offers?” Tobazel pounced. “No, ye haven’t. So ye have no reason to reject my offer. Ye will accept my son and his two seconds for the traditional fostering through the summer.”

“I’m not bound to foster anyone, Tobazel. Clan Kahgli needs no male head for it to prosper, and we will not change that. Why do you try to force your son into this when you know there is no chance for him?"

“So ye appeal to me to forgo the traditional fostering, when ye know full well that it is a tradition for all clans to foster suitable alliances, whether led by dam or sire?” Tobazel drew himself up. “Begging does not become ye, Derfrulia, and I will not dignify it with consideration. Ye will accept fostering.”

Derfrulia smiled most perversely. “I already have.”

Tobazel’s eyebrows went up, and Ankulaz’s stare flickered. My stomach roiled queasily as he searched his father’s eyes in surprise, and for the first time the clan leader’s arrogance faltered. “What does that mean, ye already have?” His face darkened, and he shifted angrily on his pony. “Ye haven’t accepted my demands for fostering – oh, I see it, I do. Ye think to put Clan Urghul off by pretending to consider alliance with another clan, do ye?”

My stomach roiled again...

“Why would I do that?” Derfrulia shrugged.

“Aye, why would ye? No other clan offers you better alliance than Clan Urghul! Alliance between two horse clans, with complimentary holdings –”

“Complimentary only if you consider our vast holdings as one end of the stick, and the poor remains of yours as the other. We have neither the need nor the desire to expand our territory. Nor will we cede our holdings to replace the lands you’ve lost over the past years.”

“That loss was none of our doing, and ye know it, Derfrulia –”

“Just as the loss of my daughter was none of your doing.”

“I offer ye honorable alliance, and ye offer me insults –”

“You’d better reconsider why you want to ally with a clan who insults you, then.”

“There isn’t any other clan who offers ye more than mine does!” He finally lost his temper to shout. “Not a one across the grass!”

“Not a one,” Derfrulia agreed. “Including yours. Begone, Tobazel. Take your son and his retainers and yourself back to what remains of your squandered lands and leave us in peace. We’ve herds to manage.”

“Ye will abide by the laws of fostering, or I will call council on ye and yer clan!”

“Would you like me to call the council for you? It won’t meet until high summer, anyway, and so nothing will be done until then. Go home, and tend what herds remain to you.”

“My son and his retainers stay. If ye want to reject their fostering, ye’ll have to make yer own appeal to the council.”

To my surprise, Derfrulia’s eyes flickered. What had made her hesitate? Something about those so-called laws of fostering? The clans in Thorin’s Halls didn’t have anything like them that I remembered, but there had been days that even Balin’s engaging explanations had been too dry to keep me from daydreaming. Maybe these laws were something she didn’t have the wherewithal to flaunt. She shrugged as if Tobazel bored her, yet signaled us to lower our bows. Fíli and I did with the rest, but I kept my arrow nocked. So did Fili.

“I’ve no use or place for three who cannot or will not work. That’s how Clan Kahgli stays strong and wealthy, Tobazel. Everyone works. You might consider the effect it would have on your reduced holdings if you had fewer hangers-on and more competent herders. Or perhaps that’s your plan? To dump three of your wastrels on Clan Kahgli so you don’t have to coddle them?”

Tobazel’s already red face flushed even darker. To my surprise, Ankulaz’s didn’t; in fact, he urged his father to hold his anger in check, advice that Tobazel pointedly ignored. The clan leader jabbed an accusing finger at Derfrulia. “Have a care, maid, or I’ll cry insult on ye.”

“Go ahead. I’d love to put my axe into the thickest part of your skull. It’d save me from being saddled with three incompetent herders.”

“My son will abide by the fostering laws, as will his attendants. They are competent herders.”

“You swear to that?”

“I do. All three of them are the highest quality.”

“Then why are you so eager to dump them here, if they’re so high quality and your lands are going begging? I’ll not accept your dregs.”

“Why don’t ye take their measure before ye go insulting them? Though go ahead, if that’s your pleasure. I’ll enjoy yer apology to me and them all the more.”

Ankulaz spoke to Derfrulia directly for the first time. He nodded in respect and said, “I’m eager to take my full part in your trials, Derfrulia. That is your right, and of course I am more than willing for you to take my full measure, however you choose.”

That sounded very polite for a Dwarf, which instantly had my hackles up. From Derfrulia’s snort, she was no more impressed. “I intend to take full measure, Ankulaz. Rest assured of that. You and your seconds will go through the same trials as does every one of my folk, and all of you, as well as your father, must abide by the results. There will be no places offered as sops to clan rank – any clan rank. My places are set only by skill and ability. If you don’t measure up, you don’t stay.”

“Done,” Tobazel said too quickly. “Ye will see through yer own trials that Clan Urghul folk are the highest skilled, and when ye do, ye’ll accept them in the very roles ye’ve laid out for yer own. No clan will place so well as Clan Urghul.”

Yanna stirred beside us suddenly, and my stomach roiled again.

“No?” she challenged, as a dangerous smile played on her features. “I think another clan will show you what true quality is, Tobazel. Beyond any doubt.”

Tobazel laughed, but there was an angry note of uncertainty in the sound. I swallowed, knowing where this would lead. “Is that right, maid? And just which clan do ye favor with yer bloody exalted regard over Clan Urghul?”

“Clan Durin.”

Tobazel was so startled that his mocking expression crumbled. What replaced it was surprise, then fury. He didn’t like anything that thwarted him, and he swore openly. His son was no less surprised, but his reaction was more troubling. His shoulders straightened, then tightened, and his pony snorted in protest at the abrupt tightening of legs and reins. I thought he might launch himself at Yanna, but in a heartbeat his angry surprise disappeared behind a mask of disappointment, as if he’d been done a wrong. Then he began to scan every one of us, looking for Fíli and me. His gaze flitted from one Dwarf to the next with a smoothly confident expression, but his eyes revealed something else. Those piercing, dark eyes held so much calculation that my stomach didn’t just roil; it knotted hard enough that I felt sick.

As bad as my tormenters had been in Thorin’s Halls, worse stood before me now. But Ankulaz’s gaze flicked over me without pause to settle on my brother, and I realized that it wouldn’t be me that he’d come after.

It’d be Fíli. Not me, but my brother. Fíli.

_Fuck that, Ankulaz. Fuck you, twelve times over, you bastard. If you come after my brother, I’ll give you something dark to fear, and it won’t be your fucking eyes. It’ll be me._

 

* * *

 

For the longest moment, I had the worst urge to guffaw at the excited spate of murmurs and the gallery of faces that gaped around me. There was Derfrulia, her jaw all but dropping at her granddaughter’s rashness. There was Yanna, her sweet face disfigured by disgust, fury, and triumph. There was Tobazel’s stunned shock, as if someone had whacked him in the face with one of his own inelegant axes, then his curses. There was Ankulaz’s shocked look when Yanna took the wind out of his sails, followed swiftly by first disbelief, then determination to fathom this unexpected turn of events. Those uncannily dark eyes of his flitted from one of Derfrulia’s folk to the next, trying to pick out which of us was Clan Durin. When his gaze passed Kíli and settled on me, I understood that this was a taste of what Kíli had endured for so long as the target of those who hated him for his mere existence. I was wary, but not afraid. In fact, the biggest reason I didn’t step forward with my title was because I was worried about Kíli. It hadn’t been that long that he’d thought to end his life because of such harassment, and I wasn’t about to put him under that pressure again until we couldn’t avoid it. I flicked a glance at him, braced for what I might see.

To my surprise, Kíli stood firmly at my shoulder, a mere quarter step behind me. His jaw was set; his weight was balanced on the balls of his feet, ready for a fight if needed; and his gaze glowered as he narrowed it on Ankulaz. There was something else, too; with his bow in hand, the weapon he excelled at, and his two wolfhounds standing with him with equal intensity, he seemed more than a thin, ugly Dwarf lad. He looked... unsettling. Someone to be reckoned with.

“ _Katu_ ,” he breathed in Black Speech, the guttural word low in his throat. Here I am, I stand beside you, he meant. “ _Nar thos._ ”

My brother called Clan Urghul a lot of eunuchs, but he wasn’t merely insulting them. Kíli was saying that these Dwarves were powerless to keep him from standing beside me, whatever came. My heart swelled with gratitude, but I kept my face as focused and intent as Kíli’s. We knew this game, and if we had to play it, we would, without quarter.

Our first duty, however, was to respect the contract we’d made with Derfrulia and Clan Kahgli. It was not our place to engage Clan Urghul, or not. It was Derfrulia’s right to decide matters.

“Ye’ve contracted with Clan Durin for fostering?” Tobazel snarled, as his gaze went to Fíli and me. “The king’s clan?”

“Clan Kahgli’s business of is none of yours, Tobazel,” Derfrulia was coolly dismissive. “Your only concern is whether you intend to put your lads through our testing or not. If you do, then you bind yourself to the outcome, without exception. If you don’t, then get out, and good riddance.”

“Name the time to start yer testing.”

“Tomorrow.”

“My lads will need time for yer dogs to choose them.”

“Your lads won’t come near my dogs until after the testing, and if they’re not chosen then, there’ll be no forcing. My dogs serve at their pleasure, not yours.”

Tobazel ground his teeth, but it was clear from Derfrulia’s unmoved demeanor that she’d made all the concessions he was likely to get. He muttered a curse under his breath but held up a hand.

“Clan Urghul will meet ye on the grass tomorrow for your trials.”

“An hour after breakfast. Stay to the north, Tobazel. You’re here under bare sufferance, and blessed little of that. My folk will be out in force tonight, so ware the borders of your camp.”

“Ware the borders of yers, in yer turn, for we’ll be out in force, too.”

Tobazel turned his pony with a jerk on the reins, and rode away without another word. His son gave me a pointed stare, which I met evenly, then he followed his father. Their four retainers followed in turn, and were soon nothing more than a dust cloud.

The tension rippling through Clan Kahgli eased in a collective exhale. Derfrulia, however, looked no easier. She scanned us from atop her pony, her usual cheerful mood replaced with a tightness about the eyes and thinned lips.

“All right, Kahgli. Let’s take ourselves away from the stink. Home.”

We hastened to pack up the tracking dummies and targets, then put out the fire that had warmed the tea, and collected dogs and ponies. Kíli spent a few moments with Mhornar and Alabrin, talking with them softly and stroking them. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought that he’d asked the dogs their opinion of our interlopers from Clan Urghul, for the three of them seemed to be in deep counsel. I fetched Kíli’s pony and mine, then Rinnala and I joined my brother and his dogs.

“So we’re all agreed that Clan Urghul are Orcs?” I teased quietly, looking to the three dogs. They gazed back at me seriously, and for once Kíli didn’t laugh at my joking.

His dark eyes held mine seriously. “No better than.”

“It’s too much to think they’ll fail Derfrulia’s testing.”

“Unlikely,” Kíli agreed, still very serious.

“I wonder how long it’ll take before Derfrulia sends us home.”

Kíli’s eyes slid off to the side, then met mine again. “I don’t know. But I think we have a while before she says anything to us.”

“Oh? Why?”

Kíli nodded in the direction of the camp. The clan was mounting their ponies to head home, and at the head of the train was Derfrulia, with Yanna beside her. Even this far away, it was clear that Clan Kahgli’s matriarch was mincing no words with her heir. Everyone else knew it, too, because there was a wide distance between them and the rest of the clan, for no one wanted to hear the diatribe.

Kíli and I looked at each other, and my brother shed his unusual seriousness to wince, then grin sheepishly. My face surely mirrored his. How many times had we had to endure similar harangues from Uncle Thorin when we’d done something idiotic?

“At least she’s not yelling at us,” Kili breathed when I handed him the reins to his pony.

“I wonder how long we’ll be able to keep it that way?”

“Ask Clan Urghul,” Kíli snorted as he mounted his pony. “Fuck them, anyway.”

“Sideways,” I agreed. “With a pike.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Clan Urghul's unwelcome appearance, Fíli does his best to think like the heir of Clan Durin. Kíli feels very young and awkward, but he's determined to stand beside Fíli no matter what comes.
> 
> Perhaps what comes first is a couple of friendly faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I stole "jam bags" from the EE version of BotFA, the writer said gleefully. That's too good an epithet not to use!

Fíli and I called to our dogs, and urged our ponies to a canter as we followed the rest of the clan back to camp. I had a lot I wanted to think about, but I didn’t have a chance to mull before Klyn and Barkhuzi rode near with their dogs, Kulazhath and Neyshath. After staring down Clan Urghul, it was a relief to see a pair of smiling faces. When we waved, they fell in beside us, and Fíli and I slowed to a trot to welcome their company.

“Mahal, what a ripe lot of offal those bastards were!” Barkhuzi shook his head, watching as our flight of five dogs nosed each other in greeting. “A lot of nerve, too, ignoring the trespass laws. It’s at least fifty miles they’ve come off their lands – what’s left of them, that is – to show their faces where they don’t belong.”

“You know more about those trespass laws than Kíli and I do,” Fíli replied. “Can you explain them to us?”

“To me, too?” Klyn inserted. “I thought that every clan had travel rights to pass through another clan’s land, but not grazing or moving a herd, so...”

“That’s the very thing,” Barkhuzi nodded. He pulled on one side of his long mustache thoughtfully. He, like Klyn, didn’t care to keep a beard, preferring to keep chin and cheeks more or less clean-shaven, but his mustache hung in two long, red braids down to his chest. With his headscarf, he was an exotic-looking Dwarf. “In a manner of speaking, Clan Urghul _doesn’t_ flaunt the trespass laws if their party is just the six Dwarves we saw. I think Derfrulia’s guessing that there’s a lot more of them than the six we saw, which _does_ flaunt the trespass laws. She’s more likely right than wrong about that lot.”

“Clan Urghul’s not on the straightest of paths, then?” Fíli asked.

Barkhuzi’s laughter was derisive. “As full of twists and turns as an old river. Always has been. I don’t know the full story; this is just my second year on the grass with Kahgli, and whatever lies between them and Clan Urghul stretches back a long time. I’ve heard some say that Clan Urghul, in fact, Ankulaz himself, had a hand in the death of Yanna’s dam. I’ve heard others say that the loss of Clan Urghul’s lands was Mahal’s curse on them for that death. I’ve heard still others say that the whole lot is rot. But no one knows for sure, and no one’s going to ask Yanna or Derfrulia to their faces. Neither of them volunteers the true tale. So, since the telling of tales or not doesn’t change the path of the sun or the birthing of the ponies, we have to get on with the herding and hunting with our curiosity unsatisfied.”

I wondered if Cyth knew the tale, and whether she’d tell it to me if I asked.

Riding next to me, Klyn had listened to Barkhuzi’s recitation with a worried frown. “What was that about another clan? Did Derfrulia say she’d negotiated with another clan?”

“I don’t know what for,” Barkhuzi shrugged, but he still tugged his mustache thoughtfully. “She didn’t lie when she said Clan Kahgli has no need for alliance with anyone. It’s the richest of the horse clans, without doubt. Maybe she said that just to yank old Tobazel’s jam bags. Not that I blame her. It’s a fucking shame no one’s yanked them clean off by now.”

“If some other clan’s sending its heirs to negotiate alliance, then I hope they’ve got friends,” Klyn gulped. “Rich, poor, or in between, Clan Urghul’s no friend to anyone.”

“Yah, they’re foul brew,” Barkhuzi exhaled, stretching in his saddle without concern. He suddenly grinned. “Hell, I’d be the first one to make a friend out of anyone who comes on the grass to cross Urghul. Though it’s too bad Yanna had to blurt out Durin’s name. Tobazel will figure out that’s a lie as soon as he calms down. Why would the king’s clan come all the way out here to make alliance with Clan Kahgli? They’re warriors and smiths, and not the best off by far. I can think of six other clans she could have named that would’ve made her story a lot more believable.”

“I’d side with anybody over Urghul,” Klyn grimaced. “What about you and your brother, Kíli?”

Grinning, I gave Fíli a look. My brother was laughing softly. “I’m relieved to know that Clan Durin rates better than Clan Urghul,” Fíli said.

Barkhuzi’s expression was quizzical. “Well, of course it does. It’s the king’s clan. What have you got against them?”

I smothered a snicker, but the grin on my face was likely perverse.

“Not a thing,” Fíli shrugged, still chuckling. “Except when my doh kro brother does something stupid.”

“Not that you ever do, arse hole,” I scoffed.

Klyn’s mouth fell open, and he stared at Fíli and me as if he’d never seen us before. “Wait – wait – you’re Clan...”

“Durin.” Fíli threw his arms wide and sketched a wry bow. “In all our glory.”

Barkhuzi stared at Fili. “You’re the –”

“Heir,” I supplied. I smiled self-consciously. “I’m the spare.”

Barkhuzi’s brows furrowed as he stared hard at Fíli, then me. “Mahal... Why in hell are the two of you out here? Are you trying for that alliance, after all?”

Snorting, Fíli held up his hands in denial. “At our age? _Skator_ , no.”

“How old are you, then?” Barkhuzi blurted, too incredulous to be subtle.

“I’m twenty-three. Kíli’s eighteen.”

“Mahal!” Klyn bleated, still gaping at me as if I were beyond sorting out. “I thought Barkhuzi and I’d be the youngest out here by a mile – I’m thirty and he’s forty-four – but you’ve got us beat by a river’s width! So... if you’re not looking for alliance, then why _are_ you out on the grass?”

I tensed, wondering what to say, but my brother, bless him, had a ready answer. “Uncle Thorin thought it was time Kíli and I went to work, that’s all. When he heard Derfrulia was looking for archers, he asked us if we wanted to try for contracts. He thought it was a good chance for us, given how good Kíli is with his bow.”

I had the best brother ever, and I shot him a grateful smile. “He thought the steppe would be a good place for us to stay out of trouble. I’m thinking he didn’t know about Clan Urghul.”

Barkhuzi snorted, but in grudging respect. “Putting you to work before the pair of you is well into your tweens... That’s no coddling, is it? Not that it looks like either of you’s spent much time on your arses. You’re both over the stars with your weapons. That’s good. As good a show as you can make over Clan Urghul in the trials, the better.”

“None of them will outdo Kíli with a bow,” Fíli said casually, as if it were a given. It likely was, but I didn’t take it for granted, though I appreciated his confidence in me. “I ought to place pretty well with my blades. We’re both decent on ponies, if not as easy as those of you born on a pony, as you obviously were, Barkhuzi. I hope the more time that passes, the better we’ll get, though we’d be grateful for any tricks you pass on. I hope that’ll be enough to keep Clan Urghul off our backs.”

“It won’t be, but that’d be true even if you were the Archer and the Hero,” Barkhuzi allowed reluctantly, referring to the constellations that shone down upon us each night. “Look, we’ll make a pact. You pass us tricks for the bow and blade, and Klyn and I will pass you tricks for the dogs and ponies. This may be Klyn’s first year on the grass as a hunter, but he’s seen to the unattached wolfhounds three years running, and he’s the best with them.”

“Are you?” I grinned in delight, happy when the young Dwarf’s face lit up. “Then you’ve taken care of Mhornar and Alabrin. They’re the best dogs I’ve ever seen – all of them are. I can’t believe how lucky I am that they took to me. I love them both so much already. And Rinnala, she’s a beauty, too. I love all of them, to be honest.”

“You’re good with them, Kíli,” Klyn complimented shyly. “You’ll be even better once you learn how to listen to everything they tell you. I was watching you this morn. You picked up right off when Mhornar told you that you gave her the wrong signal, and she waited until you got it right. She’s one of the wisest dogs. Listen to her, and she’ll train you up as sharp as your brother’s favorite sword.”

“I will. Anything you have to tell me about the training is welcome, too. That’d be perfect.”

Klyn’s smile waxed wider as we drew up to the camp. We all dismounted to walk with our ponies to the pen, and our dogs cavorted together as if they gossiped about the silliness of Dwarves. “Pact made, then?” he asked, holding out his hand. “Yes?”

I didn’t know what Klyn meant by holding his hand out. “Um... is this a ritual? I don’t...”

“Out on the grass, when we make a pact, a bargain, we slap hands to set it,” Barkhuzi explained. “Here, like this. Let’s show them, Klyn.”

Klyn stuck his hand out, palm up, towards Barkhuzi, who slapped it with his own. Then he stuck his out, and Klyn slapped it.

“See? That’s how we both set the bargain. So, Klyn and Barkhuzi have agreed to pass on tricks about the animals, and Fíli and Kili have agreed to pass on tricks about the weapons, yes? Now we four set the bargain.”

He and Klyn stuck out their hands, and so first Fíli slapped both their hands, then I did. Then we stuck ours out, and they slapped ours in turn. I grinned at Fíli, pleased that we’d made our first bargain out on the grass, and a couple of friends atop that. If only Thorin’s Halls had been so accommodating!

Klyn and Barkhuzi stayed near while we all stripped tack. Fíli and I also checked the ponies as we’d been taught, which Barkhuzi noted with approval. One of my pony’s shoes was loose, but it’d hold until I finished tending him. It didn’t take long to brush him clean. I called to Barkhuzi about the loose shoe, and asked what to do about it.

“Looks like another nail’s all that’s needed,” he said, once the pony’s hoof was in his hand. “I can see to it.”

“Is that something I should do, or do you have a farrier?”

“The Pony Master sees to it, most times, but this is simple enough that he’ll let me do it. I’m his second, you might say.”

From the way Barkhuzi grinned, I made a guess. “Your sire, then?”

“Got it in one.”

“What help do you want from me?”

“Just hold his halter. Ellip’s fond of biting any arse that comes his way, and a few that don’t.”

Snickering, I stood at Ellip’s head and distracted him with strokes and silly words while Barkhuzi got a new nail and tapped it in. “That’s got it. He’s for the pen now.”

I took Ellip into the pen, then slipped out. Fíli and Klyn had put the saddles and bridles in a nearby tent, and were waiting for us to finish with Ellip. Both Dwarves were kneeling beside their dogs, running fingers through their coats.

“Klyn tells me that it’s a good habit to look over our dogs after the day’s work, just as we do the ponies,” Fíli said, looking up at me from Rinnala’s side. “And since that’s such an unpleasant duty, you see how hard he had to work to get me to do it.”

I snickered. “So I see. Rinnala looks like she hates it, too. So, Mhornar and Alabrin, I suppose you think I should tend you in the same fashion, too?”

Alabrin gave an eager whuff – the first sound I’d heard from him – so I started with him, checking his coat for tangles and burrs. Barkhuzi joined in the grooming festival, with Mhornar the benevolent overseer to make sure we did a good job. Klyn showed us how to carefully check between the dogs’ toes, which Rinnala didn’t like, but Fíli was patient with her, and eventually she let him take each paw gently in hand. When I asked Mhornar to come stand beside me for her turn, Alabrin decided he and Kulazhath could enjoy a good romp while I was otherwise occupied.

“You’ll want to give your dogs a good brushing before they settle for the night,” Klyn ventured as we worked. “Did Vikken give you brushes?”

“Aye, he did,” I nodded. “Both Alabrin and Mhornar were excited to see them, too.”

Barkhuzi laughed. “Sure, they were. Every wolfhound loves a good brushing, same as the ponies. Utter bliss, they think it is. It’s like braiding your lovers’ hair. Turns them into jelly.”

“It does?” I said without thinking, then blushed furiously when Barkhuzi laughed. It was an amused laugh, not a cruel one, so I didn’t feel like a complete fool, merely a young one.

“Trust me, it does,” Barkhuzi said kindly. “You’ll find out one day.”

 _It does_ , Fíli mouthed silently at me, grinning, but I was skeptical. In my short life, so many maids had gone out of their way to torment me about being ugly that I had decided to avoid them and everything about them. Thankfully, it’d be up to Fíli to sort through that one day, not me, as he was the one who had to carry on the line... though I supposed that at some point, someone might foist some disgusted maid on me just to back up Fíli’s efforts. Nothing about that promised to be pleasant. To have to... um, couple... with any maid, especially one who couldn’t stand the sight of me? Ugh.

I didn’t even know if I liked maids, anyway, not that lads were any more appealing. Only a third of Dwarvish folk were maids, and it was common for lads to pair up. I... assumed that many such pairs... enjoyed themselves in sort of the same ways as lads and maids did... eh, the whole subject was embarrassing, and none of it sounded like anything I wanted to do. Maybe when I reached my forties or fifties I’d feel differently, but unless I got a whole lot less ugly over the years, I wouldn’t have much luck with anyone. I’d rather stay out on the grass with wolfhounds that accepted me, than go back to Thorin’s Halls to bear the poor sufferance of Dwarves of either... type.

“So do you want to share supper with us?” Klyn asked diffidently, as I finished Mhornar’s coat.

“We’d better find out whether we’re in a stew or not about Clan Urghul first,” Fíli replied, stroking Rinnala. “Derfrulia’s still got her eye on us.”

Barkhuzi chuckled. “I don’t doubt it. It might stay on you for a while, too, until we get Clan Urghul sorted. If you can get away, and still want to share supper, just come to the tent where we put the tack. That’s our hearth.”

Usually Fíli was the first one to plunge into any gathering he so much as smelled, so I didn’t know what to make of his demurral. Maybe he was more worried about Clan Urghul than he’d shown me. But I followed his lead as we waved a farewell and headed to the family tent. When we were out of earshot, though, I gave him a look.

“Since when did you turn down the chance for a gathering?”

Fíli returned my teasing look with a serious one, and pitched his voice to a soft murmur. “Since we came to the grass to get away from the bullies who tried to kill you, that’s when. I’m not about to replace one lot of vermin with a worse one, so until Derfrulia, Yanna, or Cyth tells me who sides with Clan Kahgli, neither of us will have supper anywhere but the family tent.”

Fíli wore that look he got when he’d spent too much time with Uncle Thorin and Dwalin. As Uncle’s first heir, Fíli had had more lessons with them than I had about heir-ish things. I sometimes teased him about turning into a gruff crusty, battle-hardened warrior like them, so suspicious that he mistrusted the sun to rise every morn. I was indignant that Fíli chose to meet the courtesy Klyn and Barkhuzi had extended to us with Uncle’s cynicism. Did my brother truly think either of them planned something nefarious? No bully from Thorin’s Halls had ever tried to get close to me by offering me compliments or explaining anything – they’d just spat insults and swung fists.

Then I remembered Ankulaz’s dark, calculating eyes, and my irritation dribbled away into chagrin. Such a Dwarf was not like the bullies who’d harassed me for being skinny and ugly. Ankulaz maneuvered for clan status, which was a much more perilous game. If his clan were in hard straits, then the game was even more dangerous, and Fíli was prudent to be careful. We were a long way from Uncle Thorin, and so depended on Clan Kahgli for protection. The least we could do was not get ourselves into trouble on the first day, even before we had position to further protect us.

“You’re right,” I nodded. “Neither of us have the first idea of what’s going on. Better we ask Clan Kahgli to set us straight first.”

“My guess is that every one of Derfrulia’s folk is loyal to her,” Fíli told me. “I’ve had an eye out all day, and while I’m smart enough to know I don’t know anything, I haven’t seen any sign of discontent. Have you?”

Chagrin flooded me again, and all I could offer Fíli was an abashed shrug. Mhornar considered me gravely, and Alabrin nosed my hand in commiseration. “I – I haven’t looked at anything but dogs, ponies, and archery targets all day. I just – I’m sorry, Fíli. I forgot everything else.”

Fíli punched my arm, but lightly. “For most of the day, I did, too. I guess Uncle’s had five more years to pound that into me than he’s had with you. Until Tobazel and Ankulaz showed their faces, I would have said I was going through the litany Dwalin fed us as a matter of course. So don’t feel bad. Just... from now on, both of us had better remember everything he taught us. He and Uncle aren’t anywhere near, and we have to look out for ourselves.”

“I thought that just now, too,” I admitted. “And while Tobazel and Ankulaz were spitting at Derfrulia, I did think about what Uncle and Dwalin taught us about trying to find any advantage.”

“Did you think of anything?”

“I wondered if Cyth could tell us why Clan Urghul lost their lands. And what happened to Yanna’s Maamr.”

“Good idea. We’ll have to pick our moment, but that tale might help us, if only to stay out of the way.”

“Did you see that odd necklace or whatever it was that Ankulaz wore? Could you tell what it was?”

Fíli shook his head. “I noticed it, but I couldn’t make it out, either. He had an amulet or something dangling from his knife, too.”

“I saw it. You think it was an amulet? Some sort of talisman? I wondered if it might be a charm, or maybe it was just a decoration.”

Fíli shook his head again. “No idea. Maybe Cyth will know that, too. Why are you interested in it?”

 “I don’t know that I am,” I shrugged. “It was just something I noticed. If it doesn’t mean anything, then I’ll forget it. If it does, then maybe I won’t.”

Fíli accepted that. “Let’s see if we can find Derfrulia or Cyth, then.”

“I don’t see them. Maybe they’re inside the tent.”

“Then that’s where we’ll go. We can’t feed the dogs yet. They’ve been running all afternoon.”

“If no one’s in the tent, we can get our brushes and finish the dogs’ coats. They’ll be calm enough to eat after that.”

Fíli and I resumed our way with the dogs beside us. When we ducked into the family tent, however, we found all three of the maids we’d hoped to find. No one else was with them, and they were gathered around the hearth. From the expressions on their faces, however, we had not come upon a pleasant conversation.

Fíli halted just inside the door, not sure whether to go in or not, so I held behind him. “Our pardon,” my brother said. “We’d like to fetch the brushes for our dogs, if that’s not an imposition, and then we’ll leave you in peace. Or we can come back later.”

“Is Kíli with you?” Derfrulia replied in a subdued voice. “I was waiting for you both to finish with your ponies. Join us, please, if your dogs would indulge us by waiting for their brushing. Yanna has something to say to you.”

I waited until Fíli found a place by the hearth and settled Rinnala beside him, then I folded down next to him with Mhornar and Alabrin tucked in beside me. I put an arm around both dogs, stroking them in thanks for their hard work today, and just to tell them how much I loved them. They both grinned at me, but seemed to sense the serious air around the hearth, and so didn’t stir once they’d gotten comfortable.

“I have done you harm, for which I am deeply sorry,” Yanna began. Her eyes were downcast and she showed none of the anger and fire she’d directed against Tobazel and Ankulaz earlier. “It was not my place to tell Clan Urghul of your presence, or to imply that you had come to sue for alliance. I behaved inexcusably, and I owe you a debt for it.”

“A very large debt,” Cyth huffed. “Fíli and Kíli are barely older than bairns, Yanna, and you set that pair of Urghul Wargs on them! You let Clan Urghul make you lose your temper –!”

“You’re letting them make you lose your temper, too, Maamr,” Derfrulia said tiredly, putting a restraining hand on her mother’s knee. “Stop.”

Cyth’s expression was disgusted. “I’ll cool my tongue, but I won’t hold it. Yanna’s brought Fíli and Kíli into our feud with that clan, and I’ll not let them die for it!”

That chilled me. I looked at Fíli quickly, but his face was impassive. Mine wasn’t. “Is that Ankulaz going after my brother? Does he think Fíli’s some sort of rival? He’s not. He came out on the grass only because of me –”

“Calm yourself, Kíli,” Derfrulia urged, laying a hand on my knee. “No one’s going to die. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Yanna’s eyes were still fixed on her lap, but her wince was still visible. So was the single tear that fell off her cheek. She didn’t reach up to brush the trace of it away, maybe hoping that neither Fíli nor I saw it. But Fíli saw it just as I did.

“Don’t worry, Yanna,” my brother said in his best soothe-the-maid voice. “If Ankulaz ends up fostering with Clan Kahgli, he would’ve found out who Kíli and I are, anyway. You just... told him sooner, that’s all.”

“You’re kind as well as polite, Fíli, but I knew that already,” Derfrulia said firmly. “It does you credit, but it doesn’t excuse Yanna for being the fool. Ankulaz would’ve learned which clan you hold to sooner or later, that’s true. But he would’ve also learned that you’re not here to make a clan alliance. Now, no matter who tells him, because the heir of Clan Kahgli implied that you and your brother are here for an alliance, he won’t believe otherwise. I won’t lie to you that that puts you at much more risk than I like.”

“I don’t guess that Ankulaz will be so dismal in your trials that you can refuse to take him?” Fíli asked.

Derfrulia shook her head. “I can’t speak for whoever seconds he brings, but he’s a competent horseman and herder.”

I thought about that. “If he’s a competent herder... why is he here for your hunter trials? Or am I confused? Are tomorrow’s trials for herders, too?”

“They’re for hunters only, Kíli. We always hold them away from the herds to give the Dwarves new to working with our wolfhounds a little time to mesh with them. I imagine Tobazel came here because he got nowhere with my sons watching our herds to the north, and so he decided to apply directly to me because he has the fostering laws on his side.”

“Those laws... they’re to keep the peace between clans, maintain ties, keep the bloodlines strong?” Fíli asked.

Derfrulia nodded. “That’s right. All clans have the right to foster their own with other clans, and the obligation to accept the fosterlings who petition them. I can’t refuse to accept Tobazel’s petition for his son out of hand. He has to give me reason to refuse, such as inability to hunt or herd, or commission of a crime.”

Cyth sniffed at that, but didn’t say more. I noted that, but was thinking hard about something else. “Clan Urghul has no dogs of their own?”

Cyth and Derfrulia exchanged a covert glance that told me I’d hit a nerve. “No wolfhounds,” Derfrulia replied. “Why do you think that might be, Kíli?”

“Um...”

Fíli stirred beside me. “Oh and oh, I see, and it makes sense. Kíli, remember what I told Uncle about the difference between you and me? I was the pit hound, and you...”

“You said I was the sight hound,” I recalled, and that showed me the answer. “Because it didn’t bother you when Uncle yelled at you, but it did me. Wolfhounds are sight hounds, and you don’t yell at them if you want them to flourish. So Clan Urghul is as rough as they look, and wolfhounds won’t choose them because they yell – I mean, they demand when they should ask. That’s why Derfrulia said that Clan Urghul couldn’t force Clan Kahgli’s dogs to choose them.”

Derfrulia nodded. “Exactly right. Well done, Kíli.”

“Do they have herding dogs? Though it seems that a herder has to ask a herding dog, too, and not demand...”

“Clan Urghul has herding dogs. A herding dog does work closely with a herder, but the bond is different. Perhaps it’s something about the difference between hunting and herding, or a difference between the two kinds of dogs. I don’t know.”

Derfrulia fell silent, considering Fíli and me for a long moment. She sighed. “I am half tempted to send both of you back to Thorin’s Halls.”

“No,” I said without thinking. As all eyes fell on me, I gulped. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. Fíli’s the head of Clan Durin while we’re here, and it’s his place to say.”

Fíli didn’t look like he wanted to go back to Thorin’s Halls, either, but he nodded to Derfrulia. “Can we have a moment in our blankets?”

“Of course,” Derfrulia nodded, so I followed my brother back to our space, dogs in tow. We settled into a huddle with the dogs crowing close around us.

“I’m sorry, Fíli,” I whispered. “I wasn’t trying to speak for you. You’re the eldest.”

Fíli’s expression was guilty. “You never do, Kíl, even when you ought to. Valar, it must be a right trial to have to second a fool all the time.”

“You’re not a fool. You’re a good brother, and I’m proud to second you.”

Fíli pulled me close to touch his forehead to mine. “So, you don’t want to go back to Thorin’s Halls.”

“You can’t tell me that you want to, either.”

He shook his head. “I don’t. But we’re in deep water out here, Kíl. Neither of us knows anything.”

“I know that if we go home, the bullies after me will still be there. There are a lot of them. Out here, there will be only three –”

“That we know of.”

“That we know of, and Clan Kahgli has our backs. Those are still better odds than in Thorin’s Halls.”

“You’re just saying that because the ones out here will be after me, not you,” Fíli scoffed, but he didn’t mean it.

“They’ll be after both of us. Maybe you first, but me hard after. That’s still three to two, not counting Clan Kahgli.”

“Truth,” Fíli conceded.

“If we go back to Thorin’s Halls, Rinnala and Alabrin and Mhornar won’t come with us, Fíl. I don’t think I can bear that.”

Fíli swallowed, as he looked down at Rinnala. “I don’t think I can, either.”

“So say we’ll stay on the grass. Don’t say we have to go back to Thorin’s Halls.”

Fíli half smiled at me. “I didn’t ever think we should go back there, but I had to try to talk us into it, even if half heartedly. Just trying to be responsible.”

I snorted. “ _Dahaut_ , brother. When was the last time we tried that?”

“I don’t know... maybe never. You’re sure? This is dangerous.”

“Everywhere is dangerous. But here is the only place where Mhornar and Alabrin and Rinnala are.”

Fíli nodded. “Then we stay. Assuming Derfrulia lets us, of course.”

“Um,” I said, deflating a bit, but then brightened. “If she were going to insist on sending us back, she wouldn’t have let us be in our blankets. Yes?”

Fíli nodded consideringly, then grinned. “Good point. Pact?”

He stuck out his hand as Klyn and Barkhuzi had showed us, and I tapped it with mine. He tapped mine in reply, and we went back to the hearth, leaving our dogs in our space.

“We’d like very much to stay,” Fíli said, which drew Cyth’s satisfied grin. She’d expected us to say that. Maybe Yanna had, too, but she looked up in surprise as well as relief. Derfrulia’s smile was more measured than her mother’s, as if she’d expected our response but was well aware of what might follow our decision. I shivered, thinking about it, but a single look at my two wolfhounds was enough to stiffen my spine. We could do this, Fíli and I. We could, and we wouldn’t be alone when we did it.

“That speaks well of you both. See that you place well tomorrow. The more reasons Clan Kahgli hunters give me to reject Clan Urghul, or at least to relegate them to lesser positions, the better I’ll like it. Now, we still have to consider Yanna’s debt for the harm she did you both. What would be suitable recompense?”

I was uncomfortable with the very idea that a maid owed me anything, but I thought about the agreement that Fíli and I had made to keep Uncle’s teachings in mind, and considered as best I could. Thankfully, Fíli was quicker about that than I was, so he had a reply ready before me.

“It’s clear that Yanna has dropped Kíli and me into something we don’t understand very well yet,” he said slowly. “So maybe it would be fitting if we asked her to help us understand. We don’t know your clan etiquette yet, or your habits, or how to avoid offense or do the right things. I’m sure that Kíli feels the same way. A teacher would be a big help.”

Yanna finally lifted her gaze to stare at us. I thought Fíli was wise to recognize Yanna’s misstep, then suggest a respectful, dignified way for her to compensate for it. “That sounds good to me, too,” I seconded.

Derfrulia gave Yanna a look. “That is a most generous suggestion. Do you agree to it, Yanna?”

Yanna looked back and forth between us, as if she wasn’t sure we meant it, but as it was our true position, we gazed back without qualm. At length she nodded. “That is a generous offer, and I’m humbled by it. Yes, I will gladly explain whatever I can to help you on your way with us. I thank you deeply.”

Fíli and I exchanged a glance, then both of us stuck out our hands. Cyth’s bark of laughter was quick to follow, and Derfrulia couldn’t suppress a chuckle. Even Yanna regarded us with surprise.

“You’ve learned a few things on your own already, haven’t you?” Cyth grinned in delight.

“We’ve muddled along,” Fíli admitted. “We have a pact, then?”

“Done,” Yanna finally smiled with close to her usual ease, and leaned forward to slap both our hands. When she held hers out, Fíli and I returned the gesture. Amazing – three pacts in a single day!

“We’d like to ask an uncomfortable question,” Fíli said as everyone enjoyed the joke. “Kili and I don’t know everyone in your clan yet, or even who’s in your clan and who’s in another clan. We don’t want to set a foot wrong this early in things, so... well, there’s no easy way to say it, so I’ll just say it. Can we trust everyone here? No one here would be inclined to look kindly on Ankulaz, would they? Is there anyone we should avoid?”

“A fair question,” Derfrulia agreed. “Most in camp are clan, though not all of the hunter candidates are. Do you ask for any reason other than prudence?”

“A pair of Dwarves asked us to share supper with them. I think it was kindly meant, but we thought to ask you about it, first.”

“Which pair of Dwarves?”

“Barkhuzi and Klyn.”

Cyth grinned again. “That pair of scamps, is it?”

“Are they trouble?” I asked, crestfallen. “They helped us a lot today.”

“Both are good souls," Derfrulia said with a smile. "Barkhuzi’s sire is my youngest son, so he and Yanna are cousins. He spent many years fostered with his dam’s folk – Clan Distin. That’s not a horse clan directly, but they’re the best saddle makers, and Barkhuzi’s a good leather worker. He came back this year to be our chief rigger, but we’ll need him to handle the wolves, too. Klyn joined us three years ago to work with the unattached dogs. He’s an orphan and doesn’t know his original clan, but he’s Kahgli now. This is his first time for the hunter trials, but he’s a gifted dog trainer, if a bit shy. It’ll do you no harm to spend time with either of them.”

“Oh, good,” I breathed in relief. “They’re the ones who explained about making the pact to us. We made a pact with them.”

“Oh?” Yanna looked at us with perhaps a bit of respect. “What pact did you make?”

“Fíli and I teach them about bows and blades, and they teach us about wolfhounds and ponies.”

“Well done,” Cyth clapped her hands together. “That’ll sharpen all of you.”

“We’re in hand for now, then,” Derfrulia looked at us all with a happier expression than she’d worn when Fíli and I had first come into the tent. “You lads go see to your dogs, and then take yourselves off to supper. Don’t stay late. I want you both well rested for tomorrow. I’m counting on you both.”

“Yes, Derfrulia,” Fíli and I chorused, as the clan master stood up.

“Yanna, I’d like you with me on rounds, please.”

“Of course.” Yanna got up with her grandmother, so we stood, too. I wondered if I’d ever get the knack of rising from crossed legs with such ease as Clan Kahgli folk did. Turning to us, Yanna said, “I thank you for your consideration, both of you. It was kinder than I deserved. I truly am sorry for what I did. That Tobazel makes me so angry...”

She looked away and clucked at herself, obviously still stewing.

Fíli quirked a grin. “Understandable. That hair put me right off before he ever opened his mouth. It probably harbors voles.”

That got a snicker even from Cyth, so Yanna’s tight expression eased, and she offered us a quick bow. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Until later, then.”

We bowed back. “Until later.”

Derfrulia and Yanna got their boots on and left the tent. We were about to fetch our dog brushes when Cyth held up her hand.

“You lads see to your dogs' brushes and supper, but then come back here before you go to share supper with Barkhuzi and Klyn. I’ll have a pot of something for you to take, and tell you the clan practices about sharing supper so you’ll be good visitors at the hearth.”

My brow wrinkled. More things to learn. I supposed it would be that way for a while.

“It’s good to have folk to look out for us,” Fíli thanked Cyth. “Otherwise, we’d never know what trouble we were getting into.”

“Oh, in time I think both of you will know quite well what trouble you’re getting into,” she grinned. “And if you don’t, yon dogs will tell you. But you’ve put your feet right so far, lads, with folk and dogs both. Don’t think we don’t know it. So off with you, see to the four-foots, and then you can have yourself a little ease. If you’re smart, though, don’t drink more than a sip of the arkhi.”

“The what?” I asked.

Cyth shooed us towards the entrance of the tent. “See to your dogs. I’ll tell all when you get back.”

“Done,” Fíli replied jauntily. “All right, Rinnala, let’s go!”

I beckoned to Mhornar and Alabrin to come, and we trooped out of the tent with our brushes in hand and dogs in tow. We found a quiet place in the grass just outside the camp, and set to brushing.

As I tended to my dogs, I supposed I should feel a lot worse than I did. After all, Fíli and I might soon bear the brunt of something we didn’t understand, something that might be worse than what I’d endured in Thorin’s Halls. Tomorrow, it might be foremost in our minds. But for now, the threat wasn’t immediate, and with Mhornar’s wise eyes looking so deeply into mine, it was hard to worry about something still so vague.

I let it go, and basked in the company of my brother, and three very large wolfhounds.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kíli gnaws a bony question, much to Fíli's amusement... until Kíli tells him why he's gnawing that bony question. Maybe Fíli's little brother isn't so clueless as he lets on.
> 
> Also, will Kíli's bottomless stomach meet its match around the hunter's hearth?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> dahaut = shit (Orcish)  
> skator-u = what the hell (Orcish)  
> shakutarbik kurvanog = fucking Dwarf (Orcish)

Kíli was unusually quiet as he and I tended to our dogs’ coats. Back in Thorin’s Halls, before the bullies had become such a hazard, my brother was always smiling, and quick to make a whimsical observation about the world around us. Even when he was quiet, it always seemed as if a smile was just about to appear on his face. Now, however, while he paid close attention to Mhornar’s every-direction-at-once coat, he seemed more solemn than intent. I nuzzled Rinnala’s ear and hummed softly, a gesture I’d learned she particularly liked, and asked her to let me pick up her forepaw. She allowed me with less distaste than she’d shown earlier, so I felt her toes extra-gently, just to get her used to me handling them. I finished that one, and the other, and still Kíli was silent.

“Are you having second thoughts about wanting to stay on the grass?” I finally asked, hoping that that wasn’t the case.

Startled, Kíli caught my gaze. “What? No! Of course not! What makes you think that?”

“You’re quiet, doh kro. You’re never quiet.”

Kíli laughed good-naturedly. “I’m trying to think. I can’t talk and think at the same time, can I?”

“That hasn’t stopped many a Dwarf from trying, and the result has caused more tavern brawls than there are fish in the rivers. What are you trying to think about?”

Kíli snickered at my joke. “Same as earlier. All the things Dwalin told us about looking for advantage.”

“ _Skator-u_ , Kíl. Do you expect us to get in a fight with that Ankulaz?”

“He’s got us in bulk. I think your reach is longer, and you’re a hair taller. I’m a lot taller, and I’ve got both of you with a bow. We don’t know how good he is with a blade; he had only the two where you have a lot more different ones; I’d guess you’d be at least as good, because you’re more versatile. He’s likely used to a lot of underhanded things that we aren’t. You’re better looking and I’m uglier.”

I winced at the last bit, but Kíli’s voice had been thoughtful. He’d merely listed differences, not judgments, so I let the comment about looks fall to the side.

“Agreed,” I nodded. “Good comparison.”

Kíli’s face was still thoughtful, which meant he hadn’t taken the topic to the ends of his consideration yet. I nudged him, smiling. “What else is going around in that head of yours, brother?”

He grinned, but then quickly grew more thoughtful again. “I... keep thinking there’s more I could do with what Dwalin told us about advantages. More than just think about weapons, I mean.”

“What else, then?”

“Um... maybe sort out more things about him? Those fucking braids, for one. I mean, he’s got a clan braid on the left with the bead, doesn’t he? Why does he need a head full of heir braids and beads, over and over again? He’s vain, isn’t he?”

I nodded. “Makes sense to me. That’s good. What else did you think?”

He mulled as he finished Mhornar’s coat and beckoned to Alabrin for his turn. “The way he talked. At first, he tried to get his father to back off. But when Yanna mentioned Clan Durin, he looked for us like a predator, right off. So even if later he thought like Barkhuzi said, that Yanna had lied, his first reaction was to find his enemy. Trying to look like he was reasoned was probably a sham, then.”

“He was cold about looking for us, too,” I agreed. “We’ll both keep our eyes on him tomorrow, to see what else we can learn. But that’s not the most important thing we have to do first.”

“Do well in the trials,” Kíli agreed with a nod. “Take the trick I learned from the bullies, brother. Don’t let him get close to you anywhere, but especially on the line. A jostled elbow here, a nudge there, and he’ll keep you from hitting anything.”

“We’ll both remember that tomorrow. I’ll have your back as much as I can.”

“I’ll do the same. There, Alabrin. You’re beautiful and glossy and elegant, aren’t you? Are you ready for supper? You, Mhornar? Rinnala, too?”

“Fíli, too,” I averred, getting to my feet. “Come on, you lot! Supper!”

Kíli and I headed to Vikken’s realm, where we stood in line with the other Dwarves to get our bowls of meat. The dogs were ravenous after working so hard all day, and it took us a while to get them to sit quietly for us to dole out the chunks of meat. Alabrin, especially, was hard-pressed to control himself, but Kíli was firm, making him sit to take each chunk. I finished with Rinnala before Kíli did, of course, so we experimented to see if Mhornar would take her food from me. Neither she nor Rinnala protested, and we decided that it was probably a good idea for our dogs to get used to taking food from either of us, as long as they didn’t object. Rinnala was gracious as she accepted a piece from Kíli’s hand, and Alabrin had finally gotten enough in his belly that he was equally accommodating when I fed him.

Cyth was waiting for us by our hearth when we finished feeding the wolfhounds. She beckoned us down beside her and thrust a big bowl of stew into Kíli’s hands.

“Eat,” she ordered, but with a smile. She put a smaller bowl in my hands. “Both of you, but especially you, Kíli.”

“But I’m going to share supper with Barkhuzi and Klyn,” he protested. It wasn’t much of a protest, because the first two spoonsful had already gone down his throat.

“You need this and then some, so hush. And eat. And listen. Now. I’ve got a pot of meat and dumplings for you to take with you. It’s not required that you bring something when you’re invited, but it’s a good way to make sure you keep getting invited. Make sure you bring the pot back. Take spoons with you. Here they are. You’ve got belt knives or boot knives, yes?” We nodded. “Use those if you have to cut up something. They’ll have teacups there, but I’ll warn you that hunters and herders alike aren’t known for washing anything, so when you get your first cup of tea, it’ll be just a splash. You swish that around in your cup to clean it out, then pour the slop into the fire. Then you get the tea to drink. As the guest, you take the first helpings of anything you’re offered. It’s impolite to refuse anything, but you don’t have to take a lot of anything. Take just a little so if you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat but the mouthful. Clean your bowls, as it’s also impolite to waste food given to you as a guest. Extra portions are allowed, as that’s a compliment to the hearth, but never take the last of anything. If you do, you’re shaming the host for not providing enough food. That’s not too much to remember, is it?”

Kíli smiled. “Not at all. I can remember all of that. You, Fíl?”

I nodded. “I can. Thank you, Cyth. Oh, what about the... what did you call it? The...”

“The arkhi,” Kíli supplied. “What’s that?”

Cyth rolled her eyes as she ladled more stew into Kíli’s bowl. He licked his lips and set to with alacrity. “No end of trouble, it is, and not just the obvious one. It’s fermented mare’s milk. Have you noticed the skin bags that hang outside every tent, including this one? That’s the arkhi.”

“Is that what was in the bowl at supper last night?” Kíli made a face. “The smell put me right off.”

“It’s not to everyone’s taste who hasn’t grown up on the grass,” Cyth conceded. “And it’s not for bairns. I don’t suppose either of you are exactly that, but... it’s as strong as ale for the head, if you catch my meaning.”

“So it makes you drunk if you have enough of it,” I summarized. “And since trials are tomorrow, we shouldn’t have any but the sip, so that we’re sharp tomorrow.”

“It’ll give you an ale head, right enough,” Cyth agreed. “But that’s not the only reason to have a care. Some of the lads haven’t got the making down well, or they drink it almost as soon as it goes in the bags so their brew doesn’t properly age, or they leave it in the sun and it curdles, or they put Mahal knows what in it to ‘improve’ the flavor. Dwarves don’t spew, so you’d be spared that, but your bellies aren’t used to our food yet, and even good arkhi can give a seasoned Dwarf the flux. One small sip is enough, if it’s offered to you. If not, all the better.”

Kíli’s stew was gone, so I shoveled down the rest of mine and handed the empty bowl back to Cyth. I leaned forward to press a playful kiss on her cheek, as if she were my grandmother. Out here, she was. “You take good care of us, Cyth. Thank you.”

She laughed and shooed me off, but the light in her eyes was pleased and touched. Not to be outdone, Kíli gave her a big hug. “Thank you from me, too,” he offered. “Especially for the stew. I was ravenous.”

“You still are, aren’t you?” Cyth shook her head. “Well, that’s good, seeing as you’re going to share supper. Pot stays on all the time in case you’re still empty when you get home. Now shoo, so I can muster supper for Derfrulia and Yanna.”

“Until later, then,” I offered her a bow.

She handed a heavy covered pot to Kíli. “Just bring my pot back to the hearth, both of you. Else there won’t be supper tomorrow!”

“We will!” Kíli replied over his shoulder, as we left the tent.

The sun was close to setting as we retraced our steps to the tent where I’d helped Klyn take the pony harnesses earlier. Kíli slowed, looking up at the sky. His smile was appreciative as he took in the wide streaks of cloud gilded in gold and orange, and the deep blue growing from the west.

“I’ve never seen the sky like this,” he said. “So wide. It seems much smaller in Thorin’s Halls.”

I hummed agreement. “The colors seem stronger, too. Brighter. Maybe because it’s flatter here.”

“The mountains hold in the mist,” Kíli suggested. “There’s nowhere for the mist to collect out here.”

“There probably isn’t any mist to begin with.”

“Truth. Not as many streams. Just the Little Lhûn to the south.” He looked south thoughtfully. “We’re too far from there to see if there’s any mist, though morn would be the better time to look.”

“We’ll look tomorrow, if we’re not too busy.”

“If we remember. There’ll be a right stir about the trials, I expect.” Kíli sighed, looking up again. “When we come home tonight, though, I want to look at the stars. I forgot to last night. I think we’ll see a lot more stars here than in Thorin’s Halls.”

“Sure to. Come on. That bowl of stew Cyth gave me didn’t do nearly enough to calm my stomach. Let’s go.”

We continued on, but Kíli slowed again. “Are our dogs allowed to go with us?”

“I don’t know. We’ll ask Barkhuzi or Klyn when we get there. If not, we’ll either let them range outside, or take them back to the family tent.”

“All right.”

We made it to the tent this time, and I stuck my head inside. “Hullo? Barkhuzi? Klyn?”

Past the stacks of saddles and racks of bridles, a figure stirred to our left. I made out Klyn’s face. “Fíli?”

“Yah, and Kíli, too. Are we too late?”

The small Dwarf got up quickly to greet us at the door. A pleased expression was on his face. “You came! That’s grand! Come in!”

“Our dogs are with us,” I cautioned. “I forgot to ask if that was allowed. We can keep them outside or send them back to our tent if you want.”

“No, no! Of course not!” Klyn beamed. “They’re always welcome here. There are usually more dogs than Dwarves in here, if I’m honest. Hullo, Rinnala, Mhornar, and Alabrin. Remember me? Come in. I think I can find you a bone or two to gnaw.”

Our dogs offered Klyn a lick of the hand and sauntered inside as if they’d been here many times before. They settled with Kulazhath without protest as Klyn led us to the hearth.

“Barkhuzi’s just ducked out to the roasting spit to fetch our antelope. He and I are the youngest, so most of the cooking falls to us. Come, sit.” He gestured to the hearth, and we sat with him. He shot a covert look around the tent, then at the door, before beckoning us to lean near. “Quick, before he comes back, do you know about the welcome sip of the arkhi?”

I nodded. “We’ve been told to stay away, as to be straight for tomorrow.”

Klyn looked relieved. “Oh, good. Barkhuzi makes the stuff, and he’s very proud of it. I can’t stand it, but I’ll do the honors if you want. If not, just say that I gave you the welcome sip when he gets here, will you?”

“With pleasure,” I agreed.

“I’m glad to miss it,” Kíli confessed in a whisper. “It smells awful.”

“Oh, Mahal, you have that right,” Klyn grimaced.

“We brought something that smells better,” I offered. “Cyth sent a pot of meat and dumplings for us to share.”

Kíli handed over the pot, which Klyn pounced on at once. He got a stick to shovel coals off an unoccupied flat rock in the hearth fire and plunked the pot atop it, next to the other pots and kettle that were already warming over the fire. “Cyth’s dumplings? That’s stellar. You’re welcome anytime you can bring a pot of those along.”

“Oh, you got away from Derfrulia, did you?” Barkhuzi heralded, depositing a huge platter piled with slabs of sizzling meat beside the fire. He squatted beside us and greeted us with a clap on our backs. “Good! Welcome to our hearth! Did you get your sip of arkhi?”

“It’ll take us a while to get used to it,” I grinned. “Derfrulia told us not to have too much because the trial are tomorrow.”

“Understandable,” the red-haired Dwarf nodded. “Too bad, though. It’s one of my better batches. What did you think, Kíli?”

Kíli looked at Klyn, who gave Barkhuzi a grimace. “Kíli thinks it smells as awful as I do.”

“No accounting for tastes, I suppose,” Barkhuzi shrugged without offense. “Leaves more for me, then, which I don’t mind.”

“And welcome to it,” Klyn snorted softly. “They brought us a big pot of Cyth’s dumplings, which even you have to admit is better than that arkhi.”

“I do, indeed!” Barkhuzi handed out bowls. “We’ve got stew, roasted tubers, porridge, five sides of antelope, and a slab of berry chew. All right, lads!” he pitched his voice louder to call to the other Dwarves in the tent. “It’s hot, so eat it before it rots!”

Seven other Dwarves stirred themselves to join us around the hearth. As introductions went around, Klyn and Barkhuzi beckoned for Kíli and me to hold out our bowls, and they slapped huge portions into them. That was the only remnant of the etiquette Cyth had told us about, for the rest of the meal was a typical Dwarvish free-for-all, replete with food, talk, and laughter. It was an enjoyable time for me, but even more so for Kíli. He hadn’t had much chance to savor company in Thorin’s Halls, and to see him relax a bit and enjoy himself was wonderful. At the same time, however, I hoped he didn’t relax too much, just because we’d be much more on our guard before long, if Clan Urghul forced their fosterlings upon Clan Kahgli. There was some talk of that, and I eased a little more of my circumspection, for it was apparent that none of these Dwarves held Clan Urghul in much regard. Some even showed resentment, because the unexpected interlopers might take a choice spot from a Clan Kahgli hunter. Their consensus was that neither Kíli nor I would fall victim to that, because they’d noticed our abilities in today’s practices.

“Would they try to cheat, somehow?” Kíli ventured. He hadn’t said much thus far, being far too busy stuffing his face and listening.

“Cheat how?” one of the Dwarves asked.

Kíli shrugged. “I don’t know. Standing close enough to jostle your elbow, or standing in your line of vision to distract you, or jibing your efforts or such?”

“Them things have been done,” an older Dwarf admitted. “But I don’t think Derfrulia will let Clan Urghul get away with that shit. She don’t want them here in the first place, so every eye’ll be on them to make sure they play straight. Nah, the trick will be to keep Clan Kahgli from doing that to them!”

“Well, don’t do it, any of you,” another old Dwarf barked, “else it gives them a chance to cry foul of us, and then we’ll be stuck with them even if them’s the worst shot on the grass!”

That met with a lot of laughter and shouting, and the skin full of arkhi went around. Kíli and I just passed it on when it came to us, and no one made any reference to us not partaking. The conversation drifted off into individual ones; I heard someone speak to Kíli about his archery, and I got into a discussion about blade steel with someone else, and we generally chewed as many words as we did bites of food. I ate a lot, but Kíli ate a truly prodigious amount; it may have been the first time he’d eaten as much as he wanted in months, for there was no lack. Where he put it all, I had no idea, but I was willing to wager coin that he’d still be ravenous tomorrow morn.

Two of the Dwarves bid us a good eve as they took themselves and their dogs out for the watch. The most senior ones stayed with us by the hearth as the tea and _ceigeach_ _ìm_ came out. We sampled the berry chew, which was a thick, sticky paste made of dried berries and honey that was so sweet and stiff that it made your teeth ache, but with the bitter tea to soften it, it wasn’t bad.

Kíli had been content to mostly listen, but as the conversation lulled, he cleared his throat. “I wonder if any of you can explain something to me?”

“What, Kíli?”

“It was something I saw this morn. A kind of necklace, I thought. That Ankulaz wore it. It looked like it had small beads or something on it. And he had a dangle on the hilt of his knife, too. I’ve never seen such things before. What were they?”

Kíli was still gnawing that bone, was he? Drogal, one of the older Dwarves snorted dismissively.

“Ah, that thing. It’s a damned bit of foolishness, it is.”

“It is?” Kíli’s eyes widened. I smothered a grin. I wondered if he weren’t playing the very young lad a bit more than he had to, but if he did, it was working, as the older Dwarf leaned forward with relish to tell his tale. “What is it, then? A trinket from a sweetheart?”

Drogal barked in laughter. “That _would_ be a bit of foolishness, young Kíli – for the maid foolish enough to tangle her beard with that lot! Nah, that be a sign of Clan Urghul – you saw the fiery horse on their tunics, yes?”

“I did,” Kíli nodded, sipping his tea.

“Well, that be their totem animal,” the old Dwarf said, as if that explained everything. Several heads nodded around the fire. “Every clan’s got a totem animal, yes? Clan Kahgli’s the pony, not surprisingly, as them’s what we’re known for. Though lots in the clan hold to the goat or the wolfhound, too. Clan Distin’s is the big steppe yak, for that’s where they get their leather for their work. Clan Regha’s is the wolfhound, for they started the breed and still supply a lot of the best dogs.”

Just like the raven was Clan Durin’s totem animal, I thought, and when Kíli glanced at me I understood that he was thinking the same thing.

“So Clan Urghul’s totem animal is a horse of fire?” Kíli asked.

“Yah, the Taalderfuli, the Fire Horse. That’s the bit of foolishness – well, it’s not a real animal, is it? Few folk put stock in it because it ain’t real, so of course Clan Urghul’s real touchy about it. They claim the fire horse appears in the heart of the storm to sweep the steppe clean with fire of a season. Now, young Kíli, I’ve seen lightning spark the fire, and I’ve seen wind drive the fire, and that’s what cleanses the steppe, not a horse made of fire. But you can’t tell Clan Urghul that. Bunch of superstitious louts, I call ‘em.”

“So what’s the necklace for?” Kíli shrugged. “Is that the superstitious part?”

“Clan Urghul thinks wearing the symbols of the fire horse will draw the beast itself to them. They say that the Dwarf who tames the fire horse and rides it will restore the clan’s fortune.” Drogal snorted. “Too bad wearing the damned thing doesn’t draw lightning down on their heads!”

That got a big laugh, from Kíli and me included, but I noticed that Kíli had that thoughtful look on his face again. The talk drifted to other topics, and before long, folk began to drift to their blankets. I took that to be the signal for Kíli and me to take our leave, so we offered our thanks for the excellent meal and hospitality to our hosts. Klyn, in particular, seemed pleased that we’d come, and made sure to get Cyth’s pot off the fire for us to take home. He and Barkhuzi escorted us out of the tent, and bid us good sleeping as we turned toward the family tent.

“You’ll come to share our supper soon, I hope,” I wished them, and Barkhuzi rubbed his hands together.

“Won’t have to ask us twice,” he replied. “Cyth’s hearth is famous, and any Dwarf who turns down her seat is a fool. You can say what you like about the two of us, but neither Klyn nor I are fools about food. You ask us, and we’ll be there.”

“We will. Good eve to you both, and we’ll see you in the morn. Good luck all around for the trials.”

“All around. Good eve!”

Kíli and I waved our farewells, got the dogs sorted out, and headed home.

Kíli rattled the pot a bit, looking inside. “Oh, good. There’s a bit left.”

“That’s courtesy, Klyn told me,” I said, as Kíli pulled out his spoon and helped himself. “Just like we weren’t to take the last of their food? They didn’t take the last of ours, which would have made the gift look like not enough.”

“Well and good. I’m finishing it off, either way. Want some?”

I shook my head in wonder. “Valar, Kíl. Where the fuck are you putting it all? There’s never been a Dwarf who ate as much as you.”

He snickered, but didn’t slow his attack on the remains of Cyth’s meat and dumplings. “Mmm. This is good, even when it’s not quite hot. Sure you don’t want any?”

I dug out my spoon, and the two of us paused to wolf down the last of it. Kíli sighed in utter repletion, and looked up at the stars. He pointed. “See? I thought so. Look how much brighter they are here.”

Kíli was right; the familiar river of stars foaming across the sky from horizon to horizon glowed with more grandeur than it did in Thorin’s Halls, likely because so much more of it was visible. As I stood by Kíli and looked up, I hummed in admiration at the sight. A few clouds scudded on the wind, but obscured only a little of the sparkling display. The constellations were harder to pick out because so many more stars were visible, but I didn’t mind. The scene was richer and more beautiful by far.

After savoring the last of the dumplings and the view for a few moments, we decided to detour to the necessary before we returned to the family tent.

“Barkhuzi told me about his head scarf,” Kíli said, as we tended to business.

“Oh?”

“We need to get them. They protect you against the sun, and when it’s cold, you pull an end out to cover most of your face against the wind. If there’s a fire, you soak the end in water and it helps filter out the smoke. Keeps the snow out of your hair, too. And you can use the whole thing as a towel, or a bandage, or any number of things.”

“Practical,” I agreed. “We’ve got the extra cloth that Maamr sent with us. We could make some.”

“Barkhuzi said he’d show us how to wrap them. But I might trade something for one. We didn’t bring any black cloth.”

“Why does it need to be black?”

“It doesn’t, especially in the summer. You’d roast if you wore a black one, he said. You need a pale one for then. But I want a black one, anyway.”

“What for?”

“I’m still trying to think about Dwalin’s lessons about finding advantages.”

“And what advantage does a black head scarf get you?”

“Maybe none,” Kíli shrugged, as we fastened our belts and turned for the family tent. “But that tale about Clan Urghul wanting to ride the fire horse?”

“What about it?”

Kíli was thoughtful. “I don’t know yet. But maybe the way I look will be an advantage, for once.”

I pulled Kíli to a stop. “You’ve lost me, brother. Make sense.”

He put a hand down to caress Mhornar. “I don’t know if I can yet. I might be the most foolish Dwarf ever, as well as the ugliest. But... what if Clan Urghul is as superstitious as old Drogal claimed?”

I spread my hands. “What if they are?”

Kíli spread his hands, pot and all. “I’m not just ugly, am I? I’m odd-looking. Not quite Dwarvish-looking. Even a bit fey.”

“That’s pushing it, Kíl. But even if you did look like some little green forest sprite touched you, so what?”

“So... Clan Urghul thinks fire on the steppe comes on a fire horse. Drogal said it comes on the wind. I’m tall and skinny, like maybe I come from the wind. If I could ride one of Derfrulia’s horses, maybe I'd convince Clan Urghul that I could ride a fire horse, too. Me on a black horse, in black clothes and a black head scarf, at night...”

I blinked. “You’re mad, you are.”

He shrugged. “Mad, fey... sort of the same thing, isn’t it? That might help things along, if Clan Urghul thinks that.”

My shrug was confused. “Help what along, Kíl? I don’t understand why you want to convince an entire clan that you’re even odder than the bullies in Thorin’s Halls thought you were. It’ll get you pounded again, and even sooner.”

Kíli looked thoughtful. “It might not, if they think I’m allied with their totem animal. If they think that, and they know I stand at your back, it might keep them from pounding you, too.”

I gaped at my brother. Even in the dark, Kíli sensed my expression and snickered. “What?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know whether to think you’re the craziest _shakutarbik kurvanog_ I’ve ever met, or the smartest.”

“I don’t know, either,” Kíli giggled. “Eh, I’m just noodling. Let it go until we see the fuckers close up. First thing is to get through the trials as best we can.”

“It is. So both of us better stop noodling and find our blankets.”

Kíli hummed agreement, so we called softly to our dogs, and took ourselves to the family tent. It was quiet inside when we came in, so we carefully set the empty pot by the fire, then got ourselves and our dogs settled in our space. I whispered a good night to Kíli, which he returned with his own. He snuggled between his dogs, and was quickly asleep.

It took me longer to drift off. I kept thinking about Kíli in his black clothes, riding a fire horse.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The field trials for the wolf hunters are here at last!
> 
> It'll be a long day for the Brothers Durin as they make their best efforts with blades, bows, ponies, and wolfhounds. As if that weren't enough, both have a few moments of angsty reflection to sort through, too. And then Clan Urghul makes their appearance. How will Fíli and Kíli fare against the newcomers?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very long chapter, but there was no good place to break it in the middle, so have a nice cup of tea ready as you settle in for the ride :-).
> 
> There is quite a bit of trash talking in this chapter, so blur your eyes when you get to that part if you don't like it. Kíli's still a kid, and talking tough is how he shores up his confidence as he figures out stuff.
> 
> Translation Notes:
> 
> skator = hell (Orcish)  
> skator-u = to hell (Orcish)  
> comys thoyn = the Dwarvish equivalent of fukkin' a (Khazuduhl)  
> dahaut = shit (Orcish)  
> doh kro = birdbrain (Khazuduhl)

For once, I didn’t have any trouble waking up early. Yes, my legs ached, but I was excited about what today would bring, if excited meant a combination of eagerness, wariness, and purpose. I was eager to take part in the hunters’ trials, of course. I was wary of Clan Urghul. As for the purpose...

On a winter’s day in Thorin’s Halls, I had wanted to die, had nearly died, should have died. It had taken me until yesterday to realize that part of me _had_ died that day, even though Fíli had saved the rest of me.

Before that day, I’d tried to hold off the bullies who’d hounded me by avoiding them, by being cautious, unobtrusive, inoffensive. It hadn’t worked. I’d still gotten the living shit kicked out of me, over and over and over again. They’d kicked the shit out of me so many times that on that day I’d tried to finish their job for them by slitting my wrists.

How fucked up was that?

Fíli had dragged me back from the abyss, he’d made Maamr and Uncle talk to Derfrulia, and he’d given up his place in Thorin’s Halls to come out on the grass with me. I owed him my life in a way that had nothing to do with my clan obligations. Because of him, I had folk around me who treated me kindly and valued my skills, and two of the most wonderful creatures in Middle Earth that loved me without reservation. I might even have friends before long. If anyone needed proof of how much Fíli loved me, then our being on the grass was it.

Then six Dwarves had crawled out of a cesspool called Clan Urghul. When their eyes lit on Fíli, they threatened the gift my brother had sacrificed so much to give me, and more. Those six wretches wouldn’t pick on a pale, skinny, too tall, unbearded, unpelted, weird-haired, second son of a Dwarf because he was ugly. They’d go after my brother, the future king of the Dwarves, because they were too stupid to figure out that the maid they’d pissed off was just mouthing off.

Fuck that. Just fucking fuck that.

That’s when I’d realized that the avoiding, cautious, unobtrusive, inoffensive Kíli was no more. He wasn’t strong enough to stand at Fíli’s back against this enemy. A new Kíli had to become Fíli’s fit right hand, just like Dwalin was for Uncle Thorin.

What made Dwalin so intimidating? Strength, of course. Battle prowess. More curses than a kingdom of Orcs. The bald head. The tattoos. The air of seriously fucking menace. Especially his air of seriously fucking menace.

I wasn’t as strong as Dwalin – stronger than I looked by far, but not like Dwalin. I’d never been in battle, bullies notwithstanding. The curses – yah, I excelled at them; Dwalin had made sure his students knew every curse and epithet known in Middle Earth. Fíli and I often conversed in Orcish just because it sounded so filthy. I wasn’t about to shave my head, or suddenly get a raft of tattoos, so that left that air of seriously fucking menace...

Here I was, the ugly Dwarf. But I wasn’t just ugly, was I? I was tall, I was thin, I was fast, I was uncannily good with my bow. Those weren’t ugly. Those were assets of a specialized warrior. As for the ugly parts, the weird black hair, the odd slanted eyes, the unusual high cheekbones and pointed chin... weird, odd, unusual... those were all words that meant... eerie. An eerie, specialized warrior. Hmmm. That could be menacing, couldn’t it?

That depended on how superstitious those rat-riddled Urghul Dwarves were. If they were superstitious enough, maybe I could convince them that I wasn’t the one to cross, and because I stood at Fíli’s side, he wasn’t either.

_That’s a lot of wishful air, Kíli. Just how are you going to turn ugly into eerie menace?_

First, I needed to be at my sharpest during today’s hunting trials, or ugly would stay nothing but ugly. My arrows were ready, my bow was well strung, and my knives were freshly sharpened. Alabrin and Mhornar would stand with me. I was calm, and as long as I got a good pony, I’d do well at the riding. I was up early to let my aching legs warm slowly, and I’d soon have a hearty breakfast. The only other thing I needed to nudge the ugly towards eerie was a bit of costuming.

Fíli was still asleep beside me, so I took pains to quietly root though my pack for my darkest tunic and trews. I dressed, then found the vial of oil for my hair and a comb. I smoothed the oil through the unruly mess, all but the clan braid, and began to comb. My hair had grown another three inches since it’d been hacked off, so it was respectably long, though I would have liked to have the missing eighteen inches back to make even more of an impression. There wasn’t anything I could do about that. A lot of the horse clan Dwarves had hair the same length as mine, so it didn’t look out of place. There was no disguising its silky waviness, though, and for the first time, I didn’t want to disguise it. I wanted it to look as unusual as possible, so I even borrowed the wolfhounds’ brush to untangle and polish it. When I shook it out, it made a thick, shiny curtain. I took a few strands at my temples and fastened them at the back of my head. That would keep the mass out of my eyes, but didn’t obstruct the rest from flowing down my back. In the constant steppe breeze, it’d flow just like Alabrin’s wavy fur did.

Suitably attired and brushed, I ducked out with Mhornar and Alabrin to find the necessary. Valar, my legs ached! It was a good thing that it was still early; I’d need another hour before they’d ease, especially my shins. I tried to stretch a little as I took the dogs for their breakfast. Once I had their meat cut up, I stretched a bit more in between doling out chunks of meat.

Fíli wandered along in a few moments, yawning and scratching his flanks. I waved to him, and when he’d fetched Rinnala’s bowl and cut up the chunks for her, he joined me.

“Valar, Kíl,” Fíli looked me up and down. “You look...”

“What?” I said, when Fíli’s voice faded. “I look what?”

“Stiff.”

“I am. Nothing new in that. I don’t look ridiculous, do I?”

Fíli considered. He looked torn, but I couldn’t tell whether that was good or bad. “No, you don’t look ridiculous. Not at all.”

“Then what do I look like?”

He mulled that for a while as he fed the dainty Rinnala. “You look like your wolfhound. Mhornar.”

Grinning, I gave Mhornar her next bit of breakfast. “Do I? That’s a start. I hadn’t thought of that, but I do look like you, don’t I, my beauty? We’re both tall, dark, and lean, with odd fur. And you, too, handsome Alabrin, though your fur isn’t odd, just wonderful. Yes, here’s your next bite, yes.”

Fíli chewed his lip as Rinnala took her next bite from his hand. “Maybe you look like one of those Rangers we’ve heard about.”

“What, the Warrior Men? Really?”

“A bit,” Fíli hedged. “You’re not as tall a Man, of course, but... you do have an air about you, there’s no denying.”

I laughed. “An air of bad cheese, perhaps? Or just the usual stench of Dwarvish shit?”

Fíli didn’t laugh. “More like... I don’t know. Like someone I wouldn’t want to fight against.”

I nodded, satisfied at the start to my campaign. “That’s good.”

“What do you want to look like?” Fíli ventured, casting me a look.

“Unsettling and competent. I can’t do Dwalin’s seriously fucking menace, so I’m working on eerily fucking menace.”

Fíli snorted, but without ridicule. “You’ve got the first two. With the dogs, your bow in hand, and a bit of a glower, you’ll get close to the last. Is this for what we talked about last night?”

I nodded, drawing Fíli’s grunt. I looked over to him. “What?”

“You sharpened to a point when I asked you that. You really want to make that clan believe you’re some magical thing?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what I can make them believe. What I really want is for them to think twice about starting on you. If having a second who looks eerily competent and unsettling does that, I’m for it. It’s not like I’ve gone to a lot of effort, have I? A black tunic and a hairbrush? Dirt easy.”

“You can’t go up against that clan by yourself, Kíl.”

“ _Skator_ , no!” I agreed. “But I don’t have to. I’ve got Clan Kahgli behind me, and I’ve got you and the dogs beside me.”

Fili jostled my arm. “Kíl, I won’t let you put yourself against Clan Urghul –”

“And I won’t let you call clan rank on me, Fíli. If Clan Urghul turns out to be nothing but a bunch of Dwarves glaring and swearing, well and good – I’ve worn one of my winter tunics earlier than I otherwise would have. If they figure out that we’re not out here to make any kind of clan alliance, well and good. If they make a stink that lets Derfrulia toss them out on their arses, well and good. But if they do anything else, then it’s my clan duty as your second to hold them off, and my pleasure to do so as your brother. You stood with me during my trouble. I’m honored to do the same for you. And if I cause a little mischief along the way, all the better.”

Fíli looked unsettled, but as he wasn’t the one I wanted to be unsettled, I gave him a playful nudge of the shoulder. “What? You ought to be glad that I’ve found a target for my pranks other than you. Otherwise, I’d make you beg for mercy before the week was out.”

At Fíli’s pained smile, I knew I’d eased his mood. “So you’re going conjure eerily fucking menace by playing pranks on a lot of superstitious Dwarves?”

“Of course not, doh kro. I’m just trying to make you feel easier, like you’ve always done for me.”

He snorted again, but he did look more reconciled. He even managed a reluctant grin. “So what _are_ you going to do?”

“First off, I’m going to do my best to drill the dead center of every target put in front of me this morn. Then I’m going to glower a bit at your shoulder and maybe murmur in Orcish now and again. No one out here seems to speak it, so if you and I speak it now and again, we’ll look... well, something. Then I’ll try to look like I share some eldritch bond with Mhornar and Alabrin. After that, I’ll stay alert for anything else that makes me look exotic and unsettling.”

Fíli considered, then gave me a slow smile. “That’s a good plan, Kíl. I think I’ll like having an eerily fucking menace as my second.”

My grin was too pleased by halves, but I didn’t care if Fíli knew how much I appreciated his blessing. “You’d better trot out your best noble-son-and-heir-of-the-clan look, then, or the eerie second will outshine the handsome prince.”

That banished the last of Fíli’s reservation. “You wish, doh kro. You’re such an arse.”

“The bigger one came first. I’m the improved version.”

“You’re so full of _dahaut_ that it’s coming out of both ends, you fucker.”

“It’s coming out of your nose, too, and your eyeballs are turning brown,” I shot back, grinning as Alabrin took his last chunk of meat. “Come on, the dogs have had their breakfast, and I need to find mine before I fall over in a faint. I’m starving!”

“After everything you ate last night?” Fíli marveled, fishing the last chunk for Rinnala out of his bowl and presenting it to her. “Valar, Kíl, your legs must be hollow.”

“Maybe that’s why they’re so achy this morn. They’re empty again.”

Fíli gave me a concerned look. “Bad?”

I shrugged. “They’ll be fine in an hour. After a big breakfast.”

We trooped back with the dogs to the family tent, where Cyth stuffed us with an absolutely huge breakfast – porridge, griddlecakes, buns, dried fruit, and more tea than would float a ship. Despite how much I’d eaten last night, I easily put everything Cyth piled in front of me down my throat. Yanna and Derfrulia joined us halfway through, and in between bites, we talked about the day’s trials. As we’d seen and done everything yesterday that we’d be doing today, there wasn’t much more for the horse maids to tell us. But I did make a blatant request for a good pony that wouldn’t buck me off at the wrong moment, or decide to nibble the stubble rather than pay attention to the goat I was supposed to chase.

“You’ll have willing mounts, both of you,” Derfrulia assured me. “All of our hunters will. The word’s already gone out about that. Barkhuzi’s sire, my son Merruli, will make sure you have the ones best suited for you.”

“If Merruli has a pony that he think suits me that also happens to be a bit... taller than the others, that would be good,” I said. “Or a black one of any size.”

Derfrulia gave me a hard look. “You’re not looking to play pranks, are you, Kíli?”

I shook my head vigorously. “Absolutely not. Playing a prank might give Clan Urghul the excuse to call foul, and I don’t want that.”

“Then why ask for a tall, black pony?”

I glanced at Fíli, who shrugged. So I leaned forward as if we were conspirators. “The lads told me about the fire horse. The dark horse in the night that brings the fire to the steppe. When I have my turns in the trials today, it won’t be my fault if I remind anyone of it, will it?”

Yanna’s eyes widened, and she glanced at her great-grandmother with such a mixed expression that I couldn’t tell which emotion prevailed. Cyth nodded, though she was grim-faced. Derfrulia, however, had the opposite reaction – she shook her head.

“Why do you want to?”

“If I do, and if I do well in the trials, it won’t be my fault if someone thinks the fire horse favors Clan Kahgli.”

“Don’t take them lightly, Kíli. You have no idea what they’re capable of.”

“Yes, we do,” Fíli answered, his voice hard. “You don’t know just how clear an idea we have. So if certain Dwarves who come to the trials today think that their totem animal also favors another clan, maybe they won’t do any of those things they’re capable of. Maybe they’ll think about accommodating first.”

“A poke towards peace, then, is it?” Derfrulia nodded. “It might work long enough to satisfy the fostering laws – that’s just three months. After that, I can send Clan Urghul back north. But your first job is to do well. Nothing else is more important.”

“Agreed,” I said. “If the pony that’ll help me the most is bright yellow with blue legs, then that’s the one I want.”

Derfrulia laughed. “I think you won’t be forced to sit such an outlandish beast, Kíli, but I take your meaning. Yanna, speak to your Uncle Merruli again before Clan Urghul gets here.”

“Yes, Derfrulia,” the maid agreed at once. “I’ll do that now.”

“Kíli and I want to walk around to get ourselves well limber, and then we’ll be ready to do our best,” Fíli said, rising after Yanna had left.

“Best of luck to both of you,” Derfrulia nodded, waving a hand to dismiss us. We offered her a bow, fetched our bows and blades from our space, and headed outside. Before we got too far, though, Cyth came trotting after us, pulling Fíli and me around.

“You beat those bastards,” she whispered, her eyes flashing and her hands clenching on our arms. “Don’t cheat, don’t jibe, don’t even notice them. But you trounce them.”

“We’ll do our best,” Fíli assured her, and I nodded in support.

“Yah, our damned fucking best,” I growled, grinning fiercely. “So wish us luck!”

Rather than be offended at my cursing, Cyth grinned back just as fiercely. “Damned right. Now off with you.”

She pulled our clan braids in quick salute, then went back to the family tent. We turned towards the steppe with dogs in tow, and walked slowly in deference to my achy legs and our dogs’ full stomachs. Neither of us spoke. There was nothing more to say.

I felt more limber after Fíli and I had circled the tents a few times. I breathed deeply of the morn air, still a bit chill, but clean and fresh. The sun was intermittent as high, streaky clouds raced from east to west, casting bands of shadow that raced up and down the undulating rises. Alabrin cavorted ahead of us, his muzzle gaping wide in a smile, looking back at me as if to share a joke. Rinnala minced after him, high on her toes and shaking her coat around her like a queen settling a mantle on her shoulders. Mhornar, however, stayed beside me, looking up at me now and again. I caressed her head playfully.

“It’s all right, Mhornar. Go have yourself a trot with your friends. Go on, my beauty.”

Mhornar deigned to gallop after Rinnala and Alabrin, and the trio chased each other about for some moments as Fíli and I walked.

As we passed Vikken’s realm, a few of the unattached dogs ran up to greet us, then joined our three to play. It was fun to watch them feint and dash, until something distracted them.

“It’s them,” I breathed to Fíli, nodding to the north. “Clan Urghul.”

“So it is,” Fíli agreed, watching the six Dwarves approach. “I’ll tell Derfrulia. You stay here with the dogs and practice your eerily fucking menace.”

I snickered as Fíli ran off. I held my ground in the middle of the dogs, shifting my stance just enough that the steppe breeze wafted my hair out of my face. Mhornar had already turned to trot back to me when I called to her, and she stood beside me, growling softly again as she watched the approaching Dwarves. I put my hand on her shoulder to reassure her as much as her presence reassured me, and Alabrin came to stand at my other side. The flight of unattached dogs circled us, heads up, tails alert, eddying around my dogs and me. I didn’t try to glower, just kept my face impassive as the six Dwarves came close enough for me to meet their eyes. When a few of the wolfhounds started to circle the party, I gave a short whistle, then the hand signals to draw them back, and most came to mill around me as the Dwarves rode by. A couple of the Dwarves stared quite rudely at me, but I held their gaze until the approaching Derfrulia distracted them. As Fíli headed for me, I joined him, making a point of standing at his left shoulder that quarter step behind. My brother stood firmly, arms akimbo; I had my right hand on his shoulder, and my left on Mhornar’s. One of the six Dwarves looked back at us, so we held our place until he looked away.

“Time to take ourselves elsewhere,” Fíli breathed, his lips barely moving.

“Why?”

“Because we don’t want to give them the chance to engage us. We’ll meet them at the trials and not before.”

I allowed myself a mischievous smile. “Glower, then go, eh?”

He shrugged, but didn’t smile. “That’s as good a reason as any, I suppose. Come on, we’ll wander wherever they’re not until the trials start. That was nice with the dogs, by the way.”

I snickered. “I’m lucky they decided to pay me mind. Did it look eerie?”

Fíli glanced at me. “It was impressive when you gave the signal and they all wheeled away from the Dwarves and came back to you. Looked like you’d been doing it for years.”

I squeezed his shoulder in gratitude. “I wouldn’t mind doing it for years.”

Fíli hummed. “Then we’d better sort out Clan Urghul so you can. Come on.”

We bade the unattached dogs a fond farewell with many pats and rubs, then circled away from the conferencing Clan Urghul. We ended up at the opposite end of the camp where the pony pens were, and found Klyn and Barkhuzi talking with Yanna outside their tent. We joined them, and warned them that the Clan Urghul Dwarves had arrived. Barkhuzi drew me off to the side for a quiet word.

“Yanna says if a black or tall pony happened to make its way to your side, you wouldn’t complain.”

I looked around, then leaned near. “The pony I want needs to be the best one to help me hit my targets.”

“Oh, aye, aye,” Barkhuzi nodded wisely. “But if that best pony also happened to be black or tall or both...”

I smiled.

“I’ll see what Taad and I can do,” he touched his nose, understanding the conspiracy. “Of course, such a pony would be most unsuitable to allot to anyone out of clan. Too frisky. Wouldn’t be fair. Wouldn’t help their chances at all.”

“Only the best for all the competitors,” I agreed solemnly, but my eyes were dancing.

 

* * *

 

I had mixed feelings about Kíli’s intensity this morn. On the one hand, it was stellar to see him so focused and determined. It was awesome to see him shrug off the shit so many had dumped on him about being ugly, and stand up straight, without apology. He looked more balanced and centered than he had for a long time, comfortable with himself. I’d never thought my brother was ugly – yes, he was far too thin, but other than that he was unusual, maybe; different, certainly; but not ugly. The ugliness had come when Kíli had winced and hunched in on himself under harassment. Today, with that determined light in his eyes, his hair proudly flying, and his wolfhounds with him, no one would have the courage to harass him about what he looked like.

On the other hand, I was distinctly uncomfortable with the reason for his change in attitude. It wasn’t because of those fucking Dwarves from Clan Urghul. It wasn’t because Kíli was seconding me the way Dwalin did Uncle, either... well, not exactly. I’d never been comfortable with the prince-now-and-king-one-day business. It was something I could avoid thinking about most of the time, given how far away Erebor was, and how big the dragon was that sat in Erebor, and how scattered my folk were. But when my little brother arrayed himself like a warrior and presented himself as my second, there was no avoiding the fact that I was the crown prince of Clan Durin.

On the heels of that reality came another. Kíli wouldn’t have done what he’d done unless he thought we were in for a fight. My brother might be inexperienced, naïve, and too gentle a soul, but he was a sharp judge of character. So were Clan Kahgli’s wolfhounds. I trusted that all of them had reason for their wariness.

After I’d alerted Derfrulia of Clan Urghul’s arrival, I’d watched Kíli with the wolfhounds as the six Dwarves had ridden by. He’d watched them steadily, nothing more. He hadn’t spoken to them, and had called back the wolfhounds with only a whistle and a gesture. It showed how adept Kíli was with animals, even these dogs after only a couple of days with them. But... if I were a Dwarf in a clan that didn’t understand how to manage wolfhounds, maybe I would’ve thought Kíli had some eerie ability.

I grinned. Maybe my little brother was on to something. Whatever it took for me to be the proper prince to his second, he’d have it.

It wasn’t long before Derfrulia summoned all the hunters for the trials. Finally, it was finally happening! Kíli and I asked Rinnala, Mhornar, and Alabrin to stay with the rest of the wolfhounds arrayed around Vikken, then we lined up to get our ponies for the first trial. This trial was simple – we had only to ride through a series of maneuvers. Kíli and I ended up with Lissa and Grimble, the ponies we’d ridden from Thorin’s Halls. Those were the ponies we knew best, but it didn’t hurt that Lissa’s coat was very dark. I smothered a grin as I stepped to Kíli’s side.

“Oi, doh kro. You weren’t just impressive with the dogs this morn. You were fucking impressive.”

He grinned as gleefully as a bairn. “Was I? I wasn’t even trying for the eerily fucking menace.”

“I know. So two words of advice, brother.”

Kíli looked up from adjusting Lissa’s girth. “What?”

 “Don’t try. Listen to Lissa, to Alabrin, and especially to Mhornar. Let your hands and eyes tell you when to loose your arrows. Be you. That will make you more fucking impressive than anything else. Promise me that’s what you’ll do.”

Kíli snorted. “That’s a lot more than two words, brother, but I thank you for every one of them. You have my promise. I want the same promise from you, too. Do your best, and fuck the rest.”

He held out his hand to me, and we made our pact. Kíli clapped me on the shoulder, we touched foreheads, and we separated to take our places on the line.

 

* * *

 

About twenty riders were lined up for the pony maneuvers. I was fifth in line; Fíli was three behind me. Tobazel, of course, wasn’t in line, for he wasn’t trying for a hunter’s position. Neither were two of his attendants. But Ankulaz was second in line, and his two companions were several positions behind Fíli. Taking Fíli’s advice to heart, I didn’t scrutinize the Clan Urghul Dwarves further once I’d noted where they were, but concentrated on Lissa. I stroked her cheek, made sure her hooves and shoes were sound, and checked that her saddle pad and bridle were well fitted and comfortable. I kept talking softly to her, tugged her ear playfully, and stroked her nose. I kept one eye on the riders ahead of me, watching as each one worked through his or her turn. We would all do the same maneuvers, but in different orders, so that we showed how well we could follow a lead hunter and direct our pony. I did watch Ankulaz’s run more closely; he was an excellent rider, of course, and didn’t jerk his pony’s bridle or kick it too hard. But it seemed to me that he treated his animal as a senseless tool, rather than a living creature with instincts. Fíli might have said I’d let yesterday color my impression, and he might have been right.

Soon it was my turn to mount Lissa. In a heartbeat, we were trotting out to start our turn! I forgot my aching legs as Lissa and I scampered off, making the turns and dashes and stops as we were bid. I couldn’t hope to match the folk such as Barkhuzi who rode on pure instinct after so long in the saddle, but I kept my hands lightly but firmly on Lissa’s reins, tried to be clear in my directions to her, and stayed out of her way to let her do her best. I thought we did passably well.

Fíli did a passable job, too. Both of Ankulaz’s mates were easily our betters, but I wasn’t worried. Archery trials would soon be upon us, and I was content to wait for them. Until then, I watched the other riders to see what I could learn from them, for there were many excellent ones. Barkhuzi, though, was more than excellent. He was so fluid, so completely one with his pony, that no one came close to his maneuvers. I cheered for him as loudly as the next, happy to see him excel. Klyn did well, too; he was small, but stuck to his pony as closely as a burr, and he was fast. I’d ask him later what made him so fast, because I wanted to ride that well, too.

To let the ponies rest, we worked with the wolfhounds next. That caused a bit of a stir, as the three Clan Urghul Dwarves didn’t have dogs of their own. They were allowed to see if any of our unattached dogs would come to them of their own accord, and of course, none of them did. That meant that they’d each have to use whatever unattached dog that Vikken assigned to them. That shouldn't be a problem, as any dog that went out with the herd was trained to work as needed with any hunter, attached or not. We would all work with unattached dogs as part of the trials, too. But Tobazel started to snarl about unfair advantage and violation of rules and so forth. Derfrulia was unruffled, to her credit. She sensibly pointed out that if Tobazel were so insistent to foster his son and his companions with Clan Kahgli, then they’d have to work out their stints with unattached dogs, so it was best that they showed they could do so now. Vikken let Tobazel choose which unattached dogs would attend his three candidates, and we got on with things from there.

I ended up at the end of this trial, so I got to see all of the other candidates before I made my attempt. There were many excellent matchups of Dwarves and wolfhounds, and the unattached dogs did reasonably well with the three Clan Urghul Dwarves. As I had done yesterday, I learned a lot from watching. Klyn was brilliant as he sorted out three unattached wolfhounds to do a complicated series of fetches and drops. Fíli and Rinnala looked as if they’d worked together for much longer than a couple of days, and I felt sure that he’d be well regarded with his queen.

When my turn came, Mhornar, Alabrin, and I trotted out, and took our places. I kneeled beside them to stroke and nuzzle, and to get a lick or two in return.

“Work hard and help me, and I’ll do the same for you,” I whispered. Then I was up, and we began our turn.

We did well with all of the silent signals, and even prankster Alabrin managed to keep his rump on the ground when I asked him. Mhornar was as precise as I expected, no nonsense and all business as we worked through the requested maneuvers.

But oh and oh, what was this? Six unattached wolfhounds came flying out, and I was asked to sort them and mine into three groups using only hand commands, then into a different set of groups. I did reasonably well – Arvaz never listened very well to anyone, and he was getting tired and wanted to rest. I signed to Mhornar in desperation, and she trotted out, snapped at Arvaz, and made him fall in line. I gave her a big hug for that, which she returned with a wide smile. I was relieved when I was told to stand down.

Archery was next. This included first standing and then mounted target work, and I’d have to pace my efforts. My legs hadn’t eased as much as I’d hoped, and the ache was a distraction. Still, I fetched my bow eagerly, and let my mind calm as the Dwarves ahead of me shot. When my turn came, I went to the line feeling calm and ready, and forgot about my achy legs. I found my breath, nocked my first arrow, and fixed the flat target face in my mind. When the call came for me to shoot, I drew my bow with my breath, let my eyes and hands guide my arrow, and eased the arrow away.

Yah! My arrow was at the very center of the target!

The target moved away from me in several stages, but I centered it each time. Even when the moving target of stuffed wolf skin went out to its farthest, my arrow went through the thickest part and pinned it to the ground.

“ _Comys thoyn_ , Kíl!” Fíli breathed, grabbing me in a huge hug when my turn was over. “I’ve never seen you shoot so well. No one’s come close to matching your shots!”

I blinked as Fíli half carried me in triumph away from the line. “They didn’t?”

“You know they didn’t, doh kro. You saw the ones who went before you!”

I blinked again, then got Fíli to put me down. “I didn’t watch them.”

Fíli stared at me. “Why not? You’ve never been nervous on the line before.”

I grinned. “I wasn’t today, either, doh kro. I was busy doing what you told me to do instead. Hands and eyes, remember?”

Fíli laughed. “Don’t ever tell Maamr about this, or she’ll want you to listen to her so well. _Skator-u_ , Kíl! That was more than fucking impressive!”

I looked around. “Did you already shoot?”

“You didn’t see me, I know. I did pretty well. Better than all three of the Urghul, at least, fourth overall so far. You, though – first by a mile!”

I cut my eyes right and left, but didn’t see any of the Urghul Dwarves, so indulged in a smirk. “Was I eerie?”

Fíli almost choked on his laughter. “Fucking mythical, though I’m not the one to ask. I don’t believe in ghosts, no matter how pale you are. Legs still hurt?”

“They’re manageable.”

“You’ll be sound for the riding trial?”

I nodded vigorously. “Try and stop me. You worry about taking the blade trials.”

“At least there’s no sparring.”

I hummed emphatic agreement. “I’d have to scrape the bottom to get through that, without doubt. Come on, that’s the last Dwarf done for the standing trial. We’d better get ready for the next bit. They’re handing round the ponies again.”

We had a new round of ponies this time. Barkhuzi had three in hand, handing one off to a Kahgli Dwarf, the next to Fíli, and the last to me. He winked as he put the reins of a very tall pony in my hands.

“Ginna’s a nimble lass,” he whispered. “Favors the right, though. Press, don’t kick, if you want to stay on.”

I nodded slightly. “Thanks, Barkhuzi. I’ll take good care of her.”

He went to fetch the next hand of ponies, so I gave Ginna a good going over, talking to her, checking her feet, her tack, her mouth. I know that Barkhuzi had done all the same checks, and I know that he wouldn’t have missed anything. But the chance to put my hands on the pony, to get her used to me, to show her that I cared about her comfort, was something I liked to do. Her reactions told me more about her, and I hoped they told her that I was a friend rather than an enemy. I particularly checked her flanks, finding the ticklish spots to avoid once I was astride. I’d just finished lengthening the stirrups to fit me when I was called to the line.

The point of this trial was to shoot the dragging wolf skin target from horseback as many times as possible in a short time. That was all well and good, but it didn’t go that way for me. I was used to pulling a heavy bow, and invariably my arrows pinned the target to the ground so that it couldn’t be dragged farther. After consulting, I was given a lighter bow with lighter arrows to use. I asked for a few moments to get the feel of this lighter bow, and so one or two Dwarves did their shooting astride while I was taken off to the side for a few moments. Both Derfrulia and Tobazel came over to keep me under their eyes, but I ignored them as I checked the bow over. The bowstring was worn, so I asked for a new one, which duly arrived. I restrung quickly, and had a few practice shots, enough to know that it pulled a bit high. With a few more shots, I saw how to adjust for that so I’d be accurate once I was astride. Then it was back to Ginna, and out on the grass.

This time, the lighter arrows and less forceful bow didn’t skewer the target to the grass. I had to get closer to the target to make sure that my arrows hit it, but that meant I had to be much more nimble in my work with Ginna. She had a smooth gait, a blessing given how much twisting and turning we had to do to stay close to the target, and she was quick to respond to my aids. I did unbalance myself once and had to push harder than I wanted on her flank, and she almost decided to buck. But a press on her other side kept her hooves down, and I don’t think anyone noticed my mistake. Hitting the target was easy, and I put two more arrows in the target than had been asked for. So I acquitted myself well for that part.

Since I’d been one of the first to shoot, I had a good chance to rest and watch the other hunters. Fíli had the same problem of skewering the target with his bow as I had, so he had to try the lighter bow as well. Once he got the feel of the bow, he rode out on a stocky pony, steady and even gaited, so he hit the target with all of his arrows. Barkhuzi’s expertise on his pony made that no issue for him, and all but one of his arrows hit the target. On a small pony to fit his small size, Klyn also did well. Both of Ankulaz’s retainers were passable, each missing twice. The heir missed but once.

The next trial was blade work. As Fíli had said, this was not sparring, but tested our ability to hit a target with a blade. Fíli, of course, was very, very good at this – he couldn’t be anything else, given that he’d practiced almost constantly since he’d gotten his first knife from Uncle at the age of three. He loved his knives so much that he was never without them, and constantly threw them at anything that he thought was a suitable target. Maamr had tried to ban him from throwing them in the house, but only the threat of taking Fíli’s knives away had worked, and only now and again. Many had been the nights where I’d been awakened first by wall-shaking thumps, as Fíli had tossed his knives at the ceiling beams in his room, then by Maamr's shouts for him to stop. I came to his side as we sorted ourselves in order for the target.

“Your turn to be mythical,” I murmured.

Fíli angled his elbow towards me. “Give me a bit of your glamour for luck.”

I rubbed my elbow against his. “Not that you’ll need it, but here it is.”

This test was something like what Fíli had described to me as a common pub game – knives thrown at a round target well marked with numbers in various places. The goal was to try to put your knives on the highest numbers. The target for this test, however, was much larger and you stood much farther away, but the idea was the same. I could just make out the number runes on the edges, but the rest of it was so well skewered that the markings had long been obliterated, so it had been daubed with bright colors of paint. For this test, I’d have to pay attention to those who went before me, as I’d never been in a pub and hadn’t seen the game before. Fíli had, and he’d told me there were all sorts of games you could play. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t seen the game in person, for the rules for the test seemed very simple – throw ten knives and count up the score.

Fíli edged to my side. “See those thin rings of blue and red?” I nodded. “The outer one counts double. The inner one’s triple.”

I nodded again, and watched as four or five Dwarves threw their knives. Fíli was next, and he had a higher count than the first Dwarves with only half his knives. He managed to hit the coveted center spot three times, the triple circle twice, and the double once. Even his other four throws gained him the highest numbers, so his score was quite impressive. It stood as the highest mark until my turn on the line, and it stood afterwards, too, though I was pleased at how well I did. I managed the second place spot, though I was well behind Fíli.

Then came the three Urghul Dwarves. A murmur went up when the first one pulled out a set of three specialized knives – long and thin, they were. They weren’t practical for hunting, or skinning, or carving. They must be for playing the pub games, then.

When the first Dwarf threw his first knife, I realized that his blades would also make the perfect weapons for an assassin. I wasn’t the only one, for the murmur from Clan Kahgli grew loud enough that the Urghul Dwarves noticed. The second one made a point of using blades that were more utilitarian, and so did Ankulaz, not that it mattered. Two of them scored just a point under Fíli, and Ankulaz himself reached the same score. I had the distinct impression that all three of them hadn’t extended themselves. I didn’t like what that might mean – since pubs were hardly likely to be scattered across the grass, and since Ankulaz probably didn’t spend his time in any town that had a pub... eh, maybe Clan Urghul had a target set up that saw constant use. Or was there some other reason why Ankulaz and his companions were so good with their knives?

The last trial was upon us. I was glad; we’d been at this all day, and the afternoon was waning. There’d been water in plenty, but no food, and I was ravenous. We wouldn’t eat until after the last trial, mostly because the goal of this last trial was to provide supper. It was an antelope hunt, if a contrived one. Clan Kahgli had snared and penned about forty antelope. Two would be released for each hunter to pursue on ponyback with wolfhounds at our sides. Whether by bow or blade or dog, each hunter was bring down the two antelope as fast as possible.

I would have gladly gone first, just because I was tired and hungry, and my legs still ached, despite it being late afternoon. But I was nearer to the end of the line than the middle, so I sat myself down with Mhornar and Alabrin and tried to rest patiently. It wasn’t entirely successful, as the longer I waited, the hungrier I got. Fíli went early on, and got both of his in rapid succession. Rinnala was no mincing queen as she flew out after the farthest antelope while Fíli pursued the closer one. His arrow made a clean kill in seconds, then he was off after the antelope Rinnala had turned for him. He shot, but the small creature darted to the side at the last second, so Fíli’s arrow didn’t score a direct hit. He and Rinnala went in swift pursuit, and the wolfhound knocked the antelope down for Fíli to put his third second arrow through its chest. They’d taken their two down in just a couple of moments.

After that excitement, the moments dragged. Fíli and Rinnala had to stay to the side until all of the hunters had had their turn, so I concentrated on Alabrin and Mhornar. I did watch enough of those ahead of me to see how the best Clan Kahgli hunters worked with their dogs, but mostly I rested my legs. I didn’t want to rub them, in case that gave Clan Urghul ideas, but I flexed them carefully, and made sure I stayed as limber as I could.

Ankulaz, the last of the Clan Urghul hunters, made his run. What surprised me was how he ignored the dog that had been loaned to him for his run. The dog ran out in pursuit, and even turned one of the antelope towards Ankulaz as Rinnala had turned one for Fíli. But Ankulaz was focused on the first one, and ignored the dog and the second antelope until he’d shot the first one. Only then did he see the dog holding the antelope from running straight away from the camp, out to freedom. He yelled at the dog – yelled? Was he mad? – and sprinted after the antelope, shooting it and nearly running over the dog. That started an angry murmur among the Clan Kahgli Dwarves. Klyn ran out onto the field to call to the confused dog, crouching beside him and murmuring in comfort while Dwarves came out to fetch the antelope carcasses. If I’d already made my run, I would have been with Klyn. The unfortunate wolfhound seemed to be saying to Klyn that he’d followed his training, so what was wrong with the mad Dwarf who’d nearly run him down? But my turn had come at last, so I got to my feet, called to Alabrin and Mhornar, and went to see what lucky pony I’d gotten this time.

The day’s last pony was not tall, nor was she dark. In fact, Hikkon was nearly the color of dry grass stubble. I checked her over as carefully as I did any pony, but not just to see to her. The ache in my legs had worsened, and I hoped the few seconds of extra movement might ease them a hair. Valar, the thought of tightening them around a pony’s barrel for a race around the grass made me wince. But this was the last effort of the day, and I was going to make a damned good go of it, so that those Clan Urghul Dwarves had something to think about. After I checked Hikkon, I bent to my wolfhounds.

“A quick chase and speedy takedown, my beauties,” I whispered as I nuzzled them and ruffled their ears. “Help me, and I’ll help you.”

I climbed into the saddle, got my bow and quiver settled, and chirruped to Alabrin and Mhornar. They flanked me on the line, ears pricked forward, tails stiff in anticipation, ready to run. Hikkon was just as intent as she waited for me – on the bit, with her ears back to listen.

The antelope were out! As they jinked back and forth over the grass, the judge beside me counted to five loudly, and on five, I whistled my loudest; Mhornar, Alabrin, and Hikkon sprinted off the line. The dogs made a beeline for one of the antelope, so I swerved Hikkon to take the other one. My legs spasmed in pain, but I held Hikkon to the chase firmly as she expected. She raced along so willingly that I risked putting her reins in my teeth. I nocked my arrow and sighted on the antelope. Hikkon put on a burst of speed when I asked her, and I shot at once. When the small creature tumbled into the grass and lay still, I took Hikkon’s reins to wheel her back towards Alabrin and Mhornar as they drove the antelope straight across my path. I nocked my second arrow, whistled warning to my dogs, and put the reins in my teeth again. Both wolfhounds peeled away behind me, out of danger, and I had the antelope down as soon as they were clear.

Valar, it was such a relief to ease Hikkon to a walk! As I guided her to the antelopes to retrieve my arrows, I leaned over her neck to caress her and praise her for her help in the hunt. The Dwarves hauling the carcasses ran out to fetch the two I’d brought down, so I slipped from the saddle and signaled to Alabrin and Mhornar. We had a joyful reunion as I made much of them and they of me. I led Hikkon off to clear the way for the next hunter, relieved that my part in the testing was finally done.

Merruli came to take Hikkon from me himself, and I relinquished her reins with a smile and many words about how much I appreciated her efforts. Merruli was amused at my praise.

“Thank Barkhuzi, then. Hikkon’s his third favorite pony. Now don’t take that badly, Kíli. He’s on his favorite, and your brother’s on his second.”

“I’m honored to have ridden any of Barkhuzi’s ponies. He’s a brilliant rider. I’m expecting to learn a lot from him – including how to choose ponies as good as his.”

Merruli laughed, and let Hikkon away with a wave. I shouldered my bow and quiver, and decided to look for Fíli. He’d been on the far left of the testing field, so I headed that way slowly, a hand on each of my wolfhounds. As we went, several of the Dwarves called approval to me, and I waved back with a grin. I couldn’t wait to congratulate Fili on his efforts, and then we’d celebrate the end of the testing. It’d be good to find something to eat – I was ravenous! It’d be a relief to rest my aching legs, too –

“You. Durin’s son.”

That gruff voice – Ankulaz’s – came from behind me. I stopped, composed my face into something neutral, and turned around. Mhornar and Alabrin both turned, too, and stayed flanking me. Alabrin stood soberly, his solemn face missing its usual playful grin, and Mhornar was at full attention. I was no less alert. The heir of Clan Urghul might be seven or eight inches shorter than I was, but he was powerfully built. His forearms were nearly as thick as my thighs, and his neck was likely twice as thick as mine. The heavy leather belt that held his tunic close to his body was a full handspan wide and figured with the horsehead and lightning bolt design that identified his clan. He didn’t wear the close-fitting trews that Fíli and I favored, but thick felted trousers that made his legs look even thicker, and supple brown riding boots. His startling brown eyes narrowed as he met my eyes, but I didn’t look away.

“You are very good.”

I didn’t let my face twitch, but inside I was surprised. A compliment? Ankulaz complimented me?

I didn’t want to take my hands from my wolfhounds. Alabrin stood still, which was warning enough, but Mhornar silently growled, because I felt her rumble through my fingers.

“ _We_ are very good,” I shrugged, indicating Mhornar and Alabrin.

Ankulaz cocked his head at us, and shrugged. “Dogs do as you tell them.”

I shook my head. “I don’t tell them anything. I listen; they listen.”

“Listen to what?”

The question wasn’t vicious or dismissive or belligerent. Maybe it was too rooted in the grass, but I’d answer it honesty, even though I sensed he wouldn’t understand. “Each other.”

“They’re dogs. You’re a Dwarf. Like listens to like, not to unlike.”

“Kíli?”

That was Fíli, threading his way through the Dwarves to reach me, but I kept my eyes on Ankulaz.

“Not always,” I said, stroking my wolfhounds’ shoulders. “The fire listens to the wind to know where to go, doesn’t it? This is the same thing.”

I didn’t wait to see how Ankulaz took my answer, but drew Alabrin and Mhornar with me to find Fíli. I’d gone two steps before I realized what I’d said.

_The fire listens to the wind? Really? Valar, Kíli._

I hoped no one but Ankulaz had heard me say such flibbity nonsense. Someone might think my father really was an Elf.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to learn the outcome of Clan Kahgli's steppe trials... then enjoy a lot of Dwarves' favorite activity - eating :-).

“Are you all right?” I hissed at Kíli. Valar, he was as white as fresh cheese, and he looked shocked. What had Ankulaz said to him? If he’d threatened my brother, I’d put him on the ground, clan rules be fucked and burned –

“What?” Kíli frowned. He looked distracted, confused. “What did you say?”

“I asked you if you were all right. What did Ankulaz say to you? Did he threaten you?”

Kíli blushed bright red.

“Valar, Kíl, you’re as red as fire. What did he say to you? I swear, I’ll punch him flat –”

“S-stop, Fíli. Stop.” Kíli swallowed. “He... he said I’d done very well in the trials. That’s all.”

“That’s all? Then why are you so fucking red? _Skator_ , he didn’t offer you a tumble, did he? I swear –”

“Did he – what? Oh, _miz barathar curp_ , Fíli! What the fuck is wrong with you! Nobody – I’m – he’s...

Flustered, Kíli glared at me, but he was dead white again, and he stumbled when he went by me. I caught his arm.

“For the sake of the Valar, Kíli! Tell me what’s wrong!”

“Nothing’s wrong, Fíl. Nothing.” Kíli slowed, and took a deep, marshaling breath. Alabrin and Mhornar crowded close against him. “Just stop. Give me a moment. I’m just... it’s just been a long time since I ate, that’s all. I’m dizzy. And my legs...”

I forced myself to calm. Nothing had happened; Kíli was just hungry. Nothing had happened. I steered him towards the family tent. “Let’s do something about it, then. Come on.”

Kíli eased my arm away, but he was slow as we walked back to the family tent. Alabrin and Mhornar stayed close to Kili, and Rinnala ranged a bit ahead to lead the way. I didn’t let Kíli stand aside to enter the tent, but gently pushed him ahead of me. He got his boots off, but went right to our space. Cyth had watched us come in, and so met my eyes when I came to the hearth.

“Is there any soup? Kíli hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast, and he needs something in his stomach.”

“Light headed?” Cyth asked quietly. "Pale, sweaty, shaky?”

I nodded. “His legs hurt all day, too. Do you have something to ease the pain?”

“Still growing, and too fast.” Cyth filled a bowl full with the ever-present meaty stew and handed it to me. “Take him this. Then you get a bowl for yourself – you’re likely starving, too. I’ll have flatbread for you both in a few minutes, and I’ll find Kili some willow bark.”

“Thank you, Cyth.”

I carried the steaming bowl to Kíli. He’d stowed his bow rig and settled the dogs, and now lay flat on his pallet with his eyes closed. I squatted on my heels and nudged Kíli’s thigh.

“Here, brother. Eat. You’ll feel better for it.”

Kíli struggled to sit up. “I need to feed Mhornar and Alabrin before I eat.”

“They need to rest a few more moments before they eat,” I assured him. “You don’t. So down the gullet and right quick. You’re no good to Mhornar and Alabrin until you’re steady on your feet.”

The tantalizing smell of the stew was too much for Kíli to resist, so he took the bowl. By the time I’d put my bow down, gotten my stew, and returned to him, his bowl was almost empty. In unapologetic violation of the tent’s privacy rules, Cyth brought the stewpot over to us and filled his bowl again without asking if he wanted her to. Kíli offered her a wordless smile of gratitude as he shoveled the stew into his mouth.

“Long day,” she said in commiseration, and both of us nodded.

“You should’ve seen Kíli,” I replied, smiling broadly as I held out my bowl for Cyth to refill. “No one came close to him in the archery trial.”

“I saw him,” Cyth squatted beside Kíli and patted his arm. “What, do the two of you think I never leave the tent? I still know how to sit a pony and judge a few inexperienced hunter lads and lasses, I do! I’d say you both did well, young Fíli.”

Kíli wordlessly held out his bowl, which Cyth filled again with a chuckle. “Let me see to your bread, lads. And Kíli, come to the hearth. I’ve got some willow bark tea to ease those achy legs of yours.”

We followed her to the hearth, and settled beside her. Mhornar came to recline at Kíli’s back, though Alabrin and Rinnala were content to rest in our space. Cyth took the flatbread off the griddle and set it on a platter between us with the _ceigeach_ _ìm_ , then left us to devour it while she rummaged through her supplies. She returned with a small packet. A pinch went into a teacup with hot water.

“There. Let that steep a moment, Kíli. Then drink it down. You can have as much tea as you like after it. Fíli, help yourself to the tea now.”

Kíli finished his third bowl of stew, sighing in relief. “Mmm. Cyth, you’ve saved my life. All the blessings of the Valar upon you and every one of your cooking pots.”

Cyth tsked, but with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry you had to go so long without eating, lad. We haven’t had hunters so young as you before, so the trials don’t take the hunger of the young into account. You did very well despite being so empty.”

“How do you think we did, overall?” I asked, as Kíli sipped his willow bark potion.

“Better than many on their tenth try, much less your first. The only thing you’re short in is riding, but in a month or two that won’t be true. You get Barkhuzi to work you. Kíli, you’re good enough to be archery trainer, if you’re comfortable with that.”

Kíli’s eyes got round. “M-m-me? Archery trainer?”

“Of course.” Cyth reached for her bowl of flatbread dough and put another round on the griddle. She flattened it with the heel of her hand, then with a sharp knife made a cuts across the circle to divide it into wedges. “You’re the best one with a bow, bar none, so we’ll want to learn to be as adept.”

“What about Fíli?” Kíli asked. “Won’t he be trainer of something, too? Blades?”

Cyth hummed. “You’re good, Fíli, there’s no denying. And honestly learned, I’m sure, which is more than I expect of those Clan Urghul Dwarves.”

“Those knives they had,” I said. “The special, thin ones.”

Cyth’s hum was disapproving.

“Are they gaming knives, or something else?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted with reluctance. “Ferrin could tell us. He’s my grandson, Derfrulia’s oldest. But he’s with the herd. I’ll be sure to ask him when we rejoin the herd. Won’t be but a day or two before we set out.”

I took a deep breath, and rubbed the back of my neck. “Everything’s happened so fast, Cyth. We came here, and met the dogs. Then Clan Urghul appeared, and Kíli and I got ourselves entangled in something we don’t understand, on top of everything else we don’t understand. Then today we went through the trials. Now we’re going to meet the rest of the herd and start working. It’s... a lot to take in.”

Cyth folded her hands in her lap and studied them for a long moment. The only sound was Kíli shoveling food down his throat. “Aye, Fíli, it’s a lot, and I’m sorry Yanna made it so. It wouldn’t be as much if she’d kept her mouth sealed about you. Clan Urghul would still be a burr under everyone’s rump, but not as big of one for you and your brother. We’ll help you sort it out, and make sure Ankulaz and his lot keep to their manners.”

“I thought Yanna was supposed to help us sort things out,” I said.

“She is. But until the trials were over, Derfrulia didn’t want Clan Urghul to train their eyes on you for any longer than they already had, so we made sure that Yanna was well separated from you. Once Derfrulia sets the hunters, and Tobazel rides back to his troll hole, Ankulaz can take what he likes when she speaks to either of you.”

“When will Derfrulia set the hunters, then?” I asked.

“She’ll be doing that now, with Merruli, Vikken, and Jiri – he’s our lead hunter; I don’t think you’ve met him yet.”

“What, not you, too, Cyth?” I joked. “You’re the mother of us all.”

Laughing, Cyth nodded unabashedly. “I am. But Derfrulia’s the clan head, now, not me. I keep the hearth now.”

“I bet you put your opinion into the stew, and if you don’t, Derfrulia asks you for it,” I teased.

“Right on both accounts. I’ve already told Derfrulia how I feel about the trials. You’ll have to wait until supper to find out if she listened to me or not.”

Kíli sighed deeply. He looked much better, not so peaked. “I feel like I’ll last until supper now.”

My brother had to endure a long, assessing look from our steppe grandmother, but she gave him a pat on the knee. “You look like you will. Go see to your pretty wolfhounds, then. Make sure you make much of them. Tell them how much you appreciated their help all through the day.”

Kíli’s smile was bright, and his arms went around Mhornar. “I don’t know if I can thank them enough. They were more wonderful than anything.”

“They were,” I agreed wholeheartedly. “I wouldn’t have done so well if Rinnala hadn’t known so much, and been so quick to do everything we were asked to do. She’s so generous.”

“As you are with them,” Cyth shrugged. “It’s only been a pair of days, but they know how much you love them. They’ll do anything for you because of that. Clan Urghul doesn’t understand that, and that’s why they can’t hold a wolfhound. Now, off with you. Brush your dogs, and give them a good supper. Here, take this with you.”

Cyth fished flatbread off the griddle, broke off two big pieces, and handed them to us. Then she made her usual shooing motions to get us to our feet. I rose as expected, but Kíli crawled to Cyth’s side and enveloped her in a big hug before getting up to follow me with his dogs. Cyth’s indulgent laughter followed us out.

“Better?” I murmured, once we’d found a quiet spot outside of camp where we could brush Rinnala, Alabrin, and Mhornar.

Kíli nodded. We tended carefully to our dogs’ coats and feet, and then sat quietly with them, stroking and petting as they enjoyed. Kíli looked almost buried under two thick blankets, because both of his dogs tried to climb into his lap. Rinnala was no different, and lay with her head against my thigh where she could gaze up at me soulfully while I scratched her belly. I snickered to see my fancy maid so sprawled beside me.

“Cyth was right,” Kíli said softly.

I glanced at him. He stroked both of his dogs, basking in their regard. “About what?”

“Clan Urghul.”

“Not understanding about the dogs?”

He nodded. “Ankulaz stopped me to say that I was very good. I told him that _we_ ,” he pointed to his dogs and himself, “the three of us, were very good. He said it was me who told the dogs what to do. I said I didn’t tell them anything; that we listened. ‘To what?’ he said. ‘To each other,’ I said. Then he said I was a Dwarf and they were dogs, and that like talked to like, not to unlike. And then I said something really...”

Kíli blushed bright red again.

“What did you say?”

Kíli winced. “I said... oh, Valar, Fíl, don’t laugh at me, because I know what I said was stupid. I didn’t think, I just blurted it out... I said that fire listens to the wind to know where to go, and that the dogs and me listening to each other was the same thing. I know, I know... it’s fucking stupid, like some flibbity Elf verse.”

“What did he say?”

Kíli stroked Mhornar’s flank and didn’t look at me. “I don’t know. I heard you call, so I just... walked away to find you.” He hung his head. “Stupid.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid to me,” I said, after thinking about it for a few seconds.

Kíli’s head shot up. “It-it doesn’t?”

“Wind shows the fire its path, the fire takes that path, and it pulls the wind along to show the wind where the path might go next. We show our dogs a path, they take that path, and they pull us after them to show us what we need to do next. So you’re right. In both situations, two unlike things circle around and around each other.”

Kíli’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck, Fíli!”

I grinned. “You’re not the only Dwarf who understands what a simile is.”

“A simile? What’s a simile?”

“Saying that how we work with our dogs is like the dance between wind and fire.”

Kíli shut his mouth, but eyed me suspiciously. “Has this got something to do with Elvish poetry? Because I dozed off every time Master Balin talked about it.”

I laughed. “I can’t tell you about Elvish poetry. Just my own.”

Kíli’s jaw dropped again. “ _Your_ poetry? Never!”

“Maamr says it’s good. But you’re the only other one who knows about it.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you.”

A long silence. “Maamr says it’s good?”

I shrugged. “Maamrs always love the stuff their lads do.”

He hummed. “Maybe I could read some of it sometime.”

“If you’d like to.”

“I would.”

“I’ll show it to you when we go back to Thorin’s Halls.” I stroked Rinnala’s head. “Are you ready for supper, my queen?”

Rinnala sat up at once, which made me laugh. If Ankulaz had been near, he wouldn’t have had any problem seeing that Rinnala understood me very well. Kíli and I got up, and fetched their supper for them. Even excitable Alabrin was well tired, and sat patiently for his meat. By the time they were finished, Kíli sniffed appreciatively.

“It smells like our supper won’t be long.”

“Don’t tell me you’re hungry again,” I snorted.

Kíli grinned. “I am. I’ll bet you are, too.”

My smirk was wry. “I am.”

“I hope we eat before Derfrulia tells us how the trials turned out.”

“Me, too,” I agreed, wrapping my arm around Rinnala to draw her close. “If anyone’s upset about the results, there’d probably be a brawl, and then there’d be no telling how long it’d take to calm everyone down before we could eat.”

Mhornar rested her head on Kíli’s shoulder as he wrapped an arm around Alabrin. He snickered. “If there’s a brawl, we’ll stand guard over the food to keep all of it from ending up in the grass. We may not be able to eat all of it before that happens, but we’ll make a good go of it.”

Laughing, I said, “The perfect plan. Come on, let’s see how close we can get to the food before the brawl happens. I want to be as close as I can get. Saves time that way.”

Kíli and I wended our way towards the cooking fires. We spotted Klyn waving at us, so we angled through the Dwarves going to and fro to reach his side.

“I was hoping to spot you,” Klyn said breathlessly. “Barkhuzi’s on roasting duty. He asked me to look out for you both. He could use more hands, so if you two are willing, we three could help him. It’s worth it – we get first dibs when the ribs are sliced, so would you?”

“First dibs on the meat?” Kíli’s eyes widened. “Tell me where to send my dogs out of the way, and I’m with you!”

“Make that both of us,” I agreed, not much less eager than Kíli.

Klyn’s smile was relieved, as if he’d worried we wouldn’t be willing. “Will you? That’s grand! Your dogs can rest with ours near our tent. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Klyn led us around the busy roasting racks, shouting to Barkhuzi that he’d found us. The red-haired Dwarf waved in acknowledgement, and once we’d settled the wolfhounds out of the rush, we hurried back, where we were quickly put to work. Barkhuzi showed me how to take the roasted meat off the spits for Kíli and Klyn to cut into slabs for the hungry. Klyn showed Kíli how to slice off the first couple of ribs for us, and the two of them kept Barkhuzi and me well supplied with tasty bits to nibble as we worked. Once the first slabs had come off the fire, we put new ones on the spits and hung them over the fire for the cooks to tend. We were free until the next batch were done, so we filched a whole side of antelope for ourselves and settled around it to stuff ourselves.

“This is sooooo good,” Kíli moaned in ecstasy, chewing every scrap of meat off a rib. “Mahal, this is the best thing I’ve had in my life!”

Barkhuzi grinned. “I bet you say that about whatever’s in front of you at that time, Kíli.”

My brother giggled. “Usually. But this really is one of the best things I’ve ever tasted.”

“That’s good, considering antelope is the most common meat you’ll find out here.” Barkhuzi cracked a rib bone to get at the last shred of meat. “You might get tired of it before long.”

“He’d have to taste it to get tired of it,” I joked. “It’s down his throat too fast for the flavor to register.”

Kíli only grinned and kept chewing. In between bites, we bantered back and forth with our new friends, interrupting our gluttony only when we were needed to haul and slice the cooked meat and refill the spits. Antelope were so small that they took very little time to cook over the big pits of embers, so we did a fair amount of work given how much we ate. Klyn got his hands on some rolls that we filled with sliced antelope, and there was more stew, and we more than made up for missing the midday meal. Kíli ate like he was starving, which he was, but Klyn was no slacker, either. Given how slender he and my brother were, it was no wonder they ate so much.

We’d finally stopped eating like ravening wolves when Derfrulia and her clan council got up to speak.

“We congratulate all of you who showed your expertise today!” Derfrulia began, holding her hands up as conversation quieted. “It was a long trial, a hard one, and, if the amount of roasted antelope going down everyone's gullet is any indication, a very hungry one!”

That met with a lot of laughter and cheers, and just as many salutes with various bones still offering meaty tidbits. Kíli wasn’t the only one who’d had a mighty appetite to slake tonight.

“We’ve ordered the ranks according to the results of the trials. First, the blades and bows; second the riding; and third, the herding and dog work.”

That met with more delighted cheers. I suspected that a lot of arkhi had begun to color the proceedings, and given the gleeful grin that Kíli flashed at me, he thought so, too.

“Standing for blades was Fíli first, Ankulaz second....”

Such a cheer went up that I didn’t hear the rest of the names, but it didn’t matter. Kíli grabbed me in a great bear hug, and Barkhuzi and Klyn piled on immediately after.

“Standing for bow was Kíli first, Numolkhuzi second, Bravazuli third, Fíli fourth...”

This time, I cheered the loudest, and pounded my little brother’s back with an enthusiastic hand. It was too dark to tell how badly he reddened, but I didn’t need to see his face to know that he did. Clan Kahgli cheered him as loudly as if he’d been their own for years, which both gratified me and saddened me. How different Kíli’s life might have been back in Thorin’s Halls if he’d received a similar acceptance there!

The rest of the standings were immaterial, other than to note that both my brother and I had performed acceptably in everything. We both needed some additional instruction on ponyback, but we’d both expected and looked forward to that. We’d done well enough with our dogs that we’d just continue that work, as would all the hunters.

“We’ll head for the rest of the clan tomorrow, at our leisure,” Derfrulia concluded, “which might be very leisurely, indeed, considering how much arkhi is making the rounds. Drink up tonight, lads and lasses, because work starts tomorrow!”

A huge cheer went up, though I suspect it had more to do with drinking the night away than starting for the herd in the morn. I gave Kíli one last thump on the back, got a few more thumps of my own from Klyn, Barkhuzi, and a few more Dwarves, and then the four of us headed back to the food to see what was left to scavenge.

“That’s a right relief, knowing we all made it through,” Klyn confided, as we absconded with another antelope half and headed away from the fire to enjoy it.

“What happens if someone doesn’t?” Kíli asked through a mouthful of meat. “Or does that ever happen at all?”

“Oh, it happens,” Barkhuzi exhaled, cutting himself a rib off the end of the meat. “Too bad that didn’t happen tonight, if you want my opinion. We’d all be better off if that Clan Urghul lot hadn’t. But they all did, so we’ll have to live with it. To answer your question, Kíli, if someone can’t ride or shoot or work with the dogs, they can leave if they want, or they take on other duties – cooking, tending the ponies, and so on. We don’t have but so many of those, because if you can’t work the herds, you still have to be able to keep up with us as we move over the steppe.”

“What if you can’t?” Kíli pressed, pausing in his chewing. “What happens then?”

“It’s not so bad if it happens during the trials,” Barkhuzi explained. “We’re close enough to towns and such, and you can make your way up to the clan home, where you can find a place. We do take care of our own. But it’s... not always so easy if something happens out on the steppe.”

“What happens then?” Kíli persisted, his food forgotten.

Klyn gave a grimace. He looked down at the food in his hands to cover his expression, but Kíli and I both had already seen it. Barkhuzi didn’t change his expression, but considered Kíli and me as he chose how to reply.

“Let’s hope that Mahal keeps that from happening,” was all he’d say.

Kíli swallowed, but I nudged his knee with my foot, asking him to back off. His gaze flickered acknowledgement, bowing to his clan superior, and he turned back to his food without another word.

Despite his inexperience, Kíli wasn’t stupid, and neither was I. Of course Clan Kahgli would do its best to care for its own, no matter the circumstances. But it didn’t take much imagination to figure out what happened if the circumstances were dire enough.

When the clan was forced to move on after the herds, someone could be left behind.

Clan Urghul surely knew that, too.

I’d keep a sharp eye out, and so would Kíli. Neither of us wanted to be the one left behind.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trials are over, the feast is done, and now it's time for Clan Kahgli to head across the steppe to rejoin their herds. Pack up the pots and the tents - it's moving day!

Eventually even I was so full of antelope, rolls, stew, berry chew, and tea that I couldn’t eat another bite. I felt enormous, like an overfull water skin just seconds from bursting. I lay back to listen to Fíli, Klyn, and Barkhuzi talk about this and that. Their conversation faded away for a while, so I’d probably fallen asleep from food overload, because the next thing I remember was Fíli shaking my leg.

“Come on, brother. Time to find our tent and go to bed.”

“What sense does that make?” I muttered. “You wake me up to tell me to go to bed?”

That met with laughter.

“If you want to sleep under the spring stars, feel free,” Barkhuzi teased. “But it’d only lull you into a false sense of security. Oh, you’d wake up safe and sound now, but just wait until the depths of summer. The blood flies would drain you in an instant!”

“Blood flies?” Fíli repeated as I clambered wearily to my feet.

“Yah, vicious little pests, they are,” Klyn agreed. “They prey on anything with a thin enough hide and blood underneath. They’ve been known to kill a weakened pony. Even the wolves don’t like them.”

“What do you do?” I asked, as we made our slow way back to the tents. “You must do something, or there’d be no horses, no goats, no antelope, and no Dwarves on the steppe.”

“Cover up from head to toe, which is no joy in the hottest part of the summer, I can tell you. Thankfully, blood flies don’t like the worst heat, so they lie low during a lot of the day. But at night...” Barkhuzi shook his head. “We tend a lot of smudge fires, and we've got a salve they don't like. But don’t worry about that tonight. You’ll have plenty of time to work up to that. Tonight, our job is to sleep well, and wake up ready to work tomorrow.”

Barkhuzi and Klyn bade us a yawning farewell at their tent, where we collected our dogs and offered our own wishes for uninterrupted sleep. Then we made our way to the necessary, did what was necessary, and went back to our tent. I let Fíli and Rinnala go ahead of me, but I didn’t waste any time shedding my boots and following them to our places. I was awake enough to see that we were just about the only occupants in the tent, but I didn’t care. I was exhausted mentally and physically, and I was glad to strip off my clothes, and flop down on my pallet. The dogs took their places beside and between us, so I unfolded my blanket, pulled it close, and shut my eyes.

“You were brilliant today, brother,” Fíli mumbled. He was flat on his back, eyes closed, one hand absently caressing Rinnala’s ear. “I’ve never seen you shoot better.”

I smiled in sleepy delight at the praise. “Thank you, Fíli. You did us proud, too.”

Fíli gave a start, but before I could wonder why he chuckled. “Yes, my queen, you were brilliant, too. Yes, pretty one, you were.”

Rinnala must have poked Fíli in the ribs with her pert wet nose. I grinned, but before my pair thought to do that, I reached out a hand to stroke two narrow heads. “Thank you, too, Mhornar and Alabrin. You were such a generous pair today! You made Clan Durin look like we belonged here, didn’t you? I’m so happy to be here with the both of you. I love you so much.”

I got a whuff of delirious comfort from Alabrin, and a long sigh of contentment from Mhornar. Those were the perfect sounds to hear as I fell headlong into sleep.

After what seemed to be the merest handful of heartbeats later, I spasmed awake – someone shook my leg as if he wanted to pull it off. I kicked out with a muttered curse.

“Cut it out, doh kro! Let me sleep!”

“Get up, Kíl. I mean it – you have to get up now!”

“What for?” I snarled. “Valar, Fíl – whatever it is you want, go somewhere else to get it!”

“If you want breakfast, you’d better get up and get it, because in half an hour, there won’t be anyplace else to get it! The tent’s about to come down around our ears!”

My eyes flew open. “Wha –”

“It’s moving day, brother! Get up now, or someone’s liable to roll you up in the tent canvas!”

I shoved myself up. There sat Mhornar and Alabrin, exchanging consoling looks before they looked back at me. Fíli was already dressed and busily stuffed his things into his pack; Rinnala oversaw the whole affair just beyond.

Yesterday flooded back – the trials, so much food at supper, and total and complete exhaustion that almost but didn’t quite drown out the memory of Derfrulia’s announcement that today we would head out across the steppe to rejoin the herds. I fumbled to pull my tunic over my head, then my smalls and trews. Valar, my legs ached as they usually did of a morn, so I was clumsy as I tried to move quickly. I scanned the tent, sure to see everyone in an uproar, but it was still and quiet. Lumps scattered around the tent revealed that most of the residents were still asleep; not even Cyth was at the fire yet. I gave Fíli a suspicious glare.

“The tent’s about to come down around our ears, is it? I’m about to get rolled up into the tent canvas, am I?”

Fíli held up his hands in placation, so he wasn’t teasing. “Cyth passed me the word, Kíl. Just now, as she went out to the necessary. I thought you might want time to wake up a bit before all the stir begins.”

The dam in question ducked into the tent and went directly to the fire to stir it into more active life. As she busied herself with breakfast, I glanced at Fíli, who shrugged as if her reappearance were explanation enough. So I gave Mhornar and Alabrin a good morn ear rub, which seemed to restore their good humor, and folded my blanket. I hadn’t been with the clan long enough to scatter many of my things about, but I stuffed the few bits back into my pack, leaving out only my fiddle, bows, blades, and the dogs’ brush. I stuck the latter into my belt before I got to my feet.

“I’m for the necessary. You’ve already been? Did you feed your fancy lass?”

“Not yet,” Fíli replied. “I’ll go with you to the necessary, then we’ll see to our dogs.”

My cheeks felt warm. “I don’t need you to go with me to the necessary.”

“Likely not. Likely I don’t need you to go with me, either. But until we know where those Clan Kahzuhl Dwarves are, I’d rather we keep a wary eye.”

My cheeks flushed warmer as I recalled a bit more of yesterday’s drama. “Oh. I didn’t think of that. Sorry, Fíl. I’m not awake yet.”

“I just thought of it when you asked, so I’m not any more awake than you are.”

It was kind of my brother not to twit me about being so oblivious. I’d have to wake up without so many cobwebs in my thoughts from now on, if I wanted to be a good second. I grabbed one of my knives before I followed Fíli to the tent door, pulled on my boots, and then stuck knife into boot sheath before we went outside. I gave a quick look around, too, to make up for my earlier lapse.

The day was much busier outside the tent than within. Folk were already astir, and while no one was running to and fro, many had purpose in their strides. A few dogs barked, but only the herders; the wolfhounds trotting throughout the camp had less boisterous ways to reveal their mood, whether cavorting around the Dwarf they held to or chasing each other out past the tents. Several folk waved or nodded good morn to us as we passed them; we replied in kind.

They were such small things, those greetings, and yet much more. They meant I was part of something in a way I’d rarely been in Thorin’s Halls. What a feeling that was – gratitude filled me, yes, but also determination, because I had more than Fíli to look after now. I had all of Clan Kahgli to support and protect, too, and I wanted to do a good job of it.

With the necessary attended to, our dogs were next. Vikken was already doling out the meat, so we collected our bowls and saw Rinnala, Mhornar, and Alabrin well nourished. After they ate, we found a quiet place beyond the tents to brush them and check their paws. Rinnala hardly fussed at all when Fíli asked to tend her paws, mute testimony to his careful attentions and her trust in him. I found a bit of sharp stalk wedged between the toes of Alabrin’s left hind paw, and was quick to work that free before it did any damage. Mhornar sat quietly while I tended to all the twists and turns in her fur; she shut her eyes and craned her head skyward as if she very much enjoyed herself. When all three of our companions were brushed and tidy, I gave a quick swipe to my hair and braided most of it out of my way so that I’d be ready to help take down the family tent. I fixed one of my braid clamps as tightly around the queue as I could so that it wouldn’t come out and send my strange hair flying everywhere. Fíli tended to his hair, too, so when we ducked back into the tent for breakfast, we were ready for anything. Cyth greeted us with a smile and a wave, and beckoned us forward to the hearth.

“Good morn, Cyth. Fíli says the tent will come down soon?” I asked, as Cyth ladled out big bowls of porridge for Fíli and me.

“Good morn to the both of you, and yes, down it’ll come,” Cyth nodded, slapping a round of flatbread dough on her hot griddle. It sizzled and quickly sent up a toothsome smell of sweet spices. “We pack up the goods first, then the canvas comes down. You’ll be surprised how little time it takes, with everyone working. All the side tents come down first. This one is the clan leader’s tent, so it goes last. The only thing that we see to after this tent is our mast. Once it’s down and the banners are safely stowed, off we go. So eat up. It’s a busy day we’re in for, and this is the last hot food until supper.”

“What do we do to help?” Fíli asked, shoveling down porridge almost as fast as I did. “Lend a hand anywhere it’s needed?”

“That’s the right way to think,” Cyth nodded approvingly. “We don’t hold with some tasks being higher or lower out here. We need to do them all, so Mahal knows what you’ll end up doing – anything and everything. As soon as Merruli shakes his bones, you stick with him. As you know, he’s Derfrulia’s son, so you offer him respect and do as he bids you.”

“Of course,” Fíli nodded.

“Do we send the dogs out onto the grass to stay out of the way?” I asked. “Or do they put a paw in things, too?”

Cyth ladled more porridge into my bowl, and pointed to a plate of meat left over from last night’s feast. I pulled out my boot knife to spear four slices of that, beating Fíli to the biggest one. He gave me an exasperated look, but I stuffed it into my mouth without remorse. I’d left plenty on the plate for him, so he made do with a different slice.

“The wolfhounds get to range a bit while we break camp, but the herder dogs help to drive the pack ponies close enough for us to snag them. We give the ponies a good clean and brush, then they take their packs. Since you’ll follow Merruli this morn, you may end up on that duty. We pack everything before we take down the canvas, so that all hands can deal with that together. You’ll find that canvas is heavy, even when bone dry, and it takes a lot of Dwarves to see it down safely. Of course, the reverse is true – it takes a lot of hands to get the tents back up again. If the Valar grace us with no rain or wind when we put them up, the day will be a blessed one indeed.”

We let Cyth stuff us as full of breakfast as we could hold. We accounted for a round of flatbread apiece, and uncounted cups of tea, plus the porridge and the meat. By the time we were full, Merruli had rolled out of his blankets and came yawning to the hearth. He continued our education as he engulfed his breakfast, telling us more about what we’d do today. Because he was the Pony Master, he’d oversee most of the young or less experienced Dwarves to get the pack ponies ready. That suited me; I was glad to spend more time learning about the sturdy beasts. But he assured us that both Fíli and I would find no lack of work today.

Good. I was strong, and so was Fíli. We’d give a good account of ourselves.

Before long, Fíli and I thanked Cyth for our substantial and delicious breakfast, and followed Merruli to begin our apprenticeships on how to dismantle the camp. As I expected, we found ourselves amid several other Dwarves, all waiting for the first ponies to appear. Merruli gave a succinct description of what we were to do when the ponies reached us – grab the nearest one, slip on a halter, and lead it out of the fray. Next, we’d clean and groom, check that hooves and legs were sound, note any wounds that needed attending, and hand off to either the packers or the medics.

To keep things balanced, we’d switch off with the packers at some point, but I didn’t have time to think about what that might entail – the first few ponies galloped towards us, then several more. Around them, some of the herding dogs ranged. While I didn’t think the smaller dogs were as beautiful as the wolfhounds, it was exciting to watch them run to and fro. They were highly skilled, working as a coordinated team to keep the ponies closely grouped, running here and there to keep the strays from slipping free. Behind the dogs and ponies rode three Dwarves to keep the group moving. Barkhuzi was one of those, waving to us as the Dwarves took the ponies in hand, then he peeled off to head back out for another group.

“He is the best rider,” Klyn shook his head in admiration as the red-haired Dwarf galloped away. “He makes all those twists and turns look a lot easier than they are.”

“I hope I learn to ride half as well before long,” Fíli agreed. He pointed towards Merruli. “Look lively, lads. We’re about to be put to work.”

That was the last spare moment any of us had for the next long while. I hung back at first, but only to see how the experienced folk worked with the ponies. Several moved ahead of me, Yanna and Klyn among them, to snare a pony by the mane, quickly slip on a halter, and then lead the pony aside. I took the halter handed to me and ventured after them, and darted to the side of a sturdy brown pony, winding a hand in her mane, then fumbling to put the halter over her head. My first attempt wasn’t smooth or elegant, but I got it on before the pony got away from me. I grabbed the halter’s lead rope, and urged the pony after me and out of the stir. Of course, the little miss took exception to me, and dug in her hind hooves and snorted a protest. Klyn gave her a smart tap on the hindquarters with his hand as he led his pony by me, flashing me a quick grin. My pony moved right smartly after that, making me laugh as I waved thanks to my friend. She settled down after that, and seemed to like my attentions once I set one of the grooming combs to her flanks. She was a right mess, full of grass and mud and knotted mane and tail, but I soon set her right. The lucky lass had no cuts or scrapes, so I did a careful check of her hooves, then delivered her to the packers. Then I was back to grab the next pony.

Fíli had handled his first pony without issue, so he was beside me as we waded back into the stir. My next pony was a timid little thing, but I soon found out why – a big gash across his neck that he was loath for me to touch. I groomed around it, talking to him all the way, and he seemed to be less nervous while I cleaned his coat and checked his hooves. I searched for the medic waiting beside the packers, and drew the pony after me.

“This lad’s got a gash down his neck,” I explained, pointing to the wound, and the medic came forward to take a look.

“Just hold her head for me, lad,” the medic directed. “Yah, so he does. You did a good job of cleaning around it. All right – Khel? Khel! Need the wash and a needle and thread here!”

The medic’s assistant came up to take the pony from me, and the medic gave me a nod. “We’ve got him, Kíli.”

“Yes, sir,” I gave the pony a comforting pat. “You’ll soon be set right, lad.”

And back I went for another pony.

I worked steadily as the ponies came in. I didn’t have another wounded one, but I had two who needed a new shoe, and one whose mane was so tangled that I had to cut out the mat with my boot knife. Fíli had equal luck. But one of the ponies Klyn snared was a sad sight, with deep, vertical slashes across his hindquarters and a painful limp. How had he managed to keep ahead of the drivers with such injuries? The pony hung his head in exhaustion, and his eyes were dull with pain. Was this what a wolf did to its prey? I grimaced in sympathy for the poor beast as Klyn led him to the menders before he did a lick of grooming. My friend looked so grim-faced that I wondered if there were more to the pony’s injuries than the slashes.

Sadly, there was. The medics led the pony downwind from the camp and put him down with a single well-placed cut to the jugular vein. Klyn came beside me, his whole body tight with upset.

“The slashes were too bad to heal?” I asked, watching as six Dwarves gathered around the pony to ease it to the ground.

Klyn gave a single shake of his head. “His back leg was broken.”

“The wolves did it?”

Klyn nodded once. “It’s not an easy death. At least we’re a bit kinder, when it has to be done.”

The butchers assembled as the pony bled out. They held off as the medic and attendants eased the pony’s path beyond, but once he was dead, they took the medics’ places. Vikken had the wolfhounds well away from the site, and the herders were out to round up more of the ponies, so there were no canine scavengers to pester the proceedings as the butchers reduced the carcass to dogs’ rations.

It was a sober note to add to the day’s stir, and I had much to think about as I went back to another pony. Of course, there were the obvious points – wolves were serious predators, and steppe Dwarves wasted nothing. But if ever I needed affirmation that Clan Kahgli hadn’t hired me out of sympathy to my plight in Thorin’s Halls, this was it.

They’d hired me because I was good with a bow, and I could kill any wolf that threatened their holdings.

That made me even more determined to do a good job. So did the pain of a mortally wounded pony.

 

* * *

 

The suffering pony that had had to be put down clearly had my brother thinking, but I was proud that he didn’t let the sad sight keep him from his work. Kíli had a few words with Klyn, but went back to catching ponies with a determined light in his eyes. We both snagged another pair before Merruli called us to switch off with the packers. There wasn’t a need in that one task was harder or easier than another, but it made sense, all the same – this was the best way to get everyone familiar with both tasks while we had the leisure to learn. Likely we’d be much busier as the season went along, so better to get us all trained now.

Packing wasn’t as exciting as snaring ponies, but I set to with a will. Yanna’s lessons that first day back in Thorin’s Hills stood me in good stead, so I heaved the pack rigs atop the ponies and fastened them as she’d shown me. The routine was that some Dwarves rigged the ponies, and others did the packing, so during the course of the morn, Kíli and I had the chance to do both. So many packs and bundles! Interesting – the clan used very few wooden or metal boxes, but mostly stowed things in tightly wrapped hide or canvas bundles. They were easier and lighter to pack, which helped the ponies as well as the packing. The exceptions were for bow rigs, arrows and spare arrow shafts, and blades. Sensible, that; the spare bows needed protection from bending, and the Dwarves needed protection from inadvertent pokes and prods that sharp blades could deal.

The other interesting item was all the decorations that marked personal packs as well as clan ones. Some were obvious – runes spelled out whether a clan bundle held pots or herbs or medicines. Those that identified personal packs were more fanciful, a drawing of a dog or a geometric mandala or so forth. Those made as much sense, so that once we unloaded the ponies we’d find our things quickly. Kíli and I hadn’t marked our packs at all, so ours were obvious by their lack of ornamentation. Maybe in a spare moment someone could tell us about the decorations so that we could add some distinction to our plain goods.

Maybe a raven?

Cyth had not exaggerated when she’d said how fast our packing would go. We got all the goods ready before the sun was halfway to noon. Then it was on to the tents. Kíli and I paid close attention to unpin the canvas from the ground, help those who removed the center and side poles, and then fold the canvas into compact bales. By the time we got to the family tent, we knew the routine. The poles became drags behind the bigger ponies, then we lashed the bales on top. We saddled and bridled the remaining ponies, and all that remained was the clan mast, still standing tall and festooned with all its banners.

I expected the mast to come down at once, but we had a brief break first. Folk passed around dried meat and fruit, water bottles, and firm biscuits that wouldn’t crumble as we traveled. Barkhuzi told us that this was our luncheon, and to stow the packet on our saddles with our fiddles, bows, and blades. We took the ponies that were given to us, stowed our personal things on them, and turned back to watch the clan leaders see to the mast. Derfrulia stood with her mother, granddaughter, and son to address us all.

“To the herds!” Derfrulia called, and Yanna, Cyth, and Merruli beckoned several Dwarves forward to help bring the mast down.

I gave Kíli a look. My brother met my eyes with suppressed glee.

“To the point. I like that,” I grinned, knowing what had tickled Kíli’s sense of humor so completely.

“Nothing like Uncle,” Kíli giggled in agreement. “Or Master Balin. Or Maamr.”

“Thank the Valar,” I agreed, snickering with him. “Come on. Time to go.”

We scrambled to mount our ponies and take our places with the rest of the clan. Merruli came to direct us to the outside of the array, where our bows would be between the pack ponies and anything that might threaten them. We sorted ourselves out to the left side, calling to our dogs as the flight of them flew past us to lead the way forward. Rinnala peeled off with mincing, flouncy steps, laughing at me with her wide-gaping grin. Ahead of me, Alabrin cavorted around Kíli’s sturdy pony – he’d gotten a black one, whether by design or accident – and Mhornar came trotting behind her consort. She turned her attention outward –

She paused, intent on something.

“Kíli!” I called ahead, pointing to Mhornar when he looked back at me. He pointed his pony after his dog, calling to her, but she wasn’t the only dog intent on something. Several of the rest looked north, too.

I scanned to see if the clan was as alert as the wolfhounds, and to be sure, they certainly were. Derfrulia had already guided her pony northwards, with Yanna and Merruli flanking her.

Of course. What else would put such wary expressions on their faces? What else would make the dogs circle around them with such intensity?

Clan Urghul approached.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dís called Kíli reckless many, many times before he admitted as much to Tauriel in his Mirkwood cell. Sixty years beforehand, he's proves how right his mother was.

As soon as I sorted out what had attracted the dogs’ attentions so completely, I darted looks at the Dwarves around me. Everyone stayed mounted, but almost all of the outriders shifted left, to stand between the pack ponies and the approaching Clan Urghul Dwarves. Following their leads, Fíli and I took our bows in hand, nocked an arrow, and joined the line that faced the six oncoming Dwarves. Tobazel rode between his two retainers, and Ankulaz between his was just behind. I gave Tobazel and his two only a cursory scan; most of my attention went to Ankulaz because he and his seconds were the ones who would share Clan Kahgli’s tents for at least the next three months.

I hadn’t caught the names of either of Ankulaz’s seconds yesterday. They and their heir knew full well how unwelcome they were, and had kept to themselves throughout the trials, other than the one time Ankulaz had spoken to me...

Now that I wasn’t so embarrassed about muttering drivel about wind and fire, I wondered why the heir of Clan Urghul had seen fit to speak to me at all, much less compliment me about anything. Had he wanted to catch me off my guard to take my measure, or had he sincerely acknowledged my skills? Was his arrogant way of speaking force of habit, or an accurate reflection of how he regarded me?

I snorted. Dwarves were not creatures of subtlety. He hadn’t spoken to any of the Clan Kahgli Dwarves that I’d noticed, only me – his competition in this stupid business of alliance that Yanna had fed him. Most likely, he’d wanted to make a forceful impression as a Dwarf to be reckoned with, a preface to making his way into the pecking order of a hostile clan.

I’d lived at the bottom of the pecking order of a hostile clan all my life. Given Clan Kahgli’s distrust of Clan Urghul, Ankulaz and his lot would be the ones in that place now, not me. Still, as long as they left my brother and me alone, I wouldn’t treat them the way my folk had treated me but keep a watchful eye, keep my mouth shut, and stay out of the fray.

As if she heard my resolution, Mhornar planted herself between the approaching Dwarves and me, and growled audibly. It was the most emphatic pronouncement she’d made.

Clan Urghul drew near. Tobazel looked no different than he had yesterday – same pony, same clothing, same weapons. He likely didn’t alter his gear until it fell off his body. Dwarves aren’t known for their love of bathing, right enough, but I shuddered to think of the layers of filth that coated him. His two seconds seemed equally unchanged, but that was not the case for Ankulaz and his seconds.

The older one was dour and stolid. The hair on his head and in his long, unbraided, trailing brown mustaches wasn’t curly or wiry as was typical of many Dwarves; rather, it was straight and stiff like a pony’s mane. He wasn’t a flamboyant man; his personal gear and his pony’s tack were plain, hard-wearing leather and heavy canvas, with sturdy riding boots, all in shades of dark brown. Despite the prevailing brown, he looked more like a heavy, steady block of grey Blue Mountain granite than anything else. I hadn’t heard him speak, but I imagined his voice would sound gravelly, like pebbles rolling down a slope. His bow was plain but for a small bit of carving above and below the grip, and his clan braid by his right ear had only a small bead – Ankulaz’s cousin or more distant relation, maybe.

The younger one... ah, he was a puzzle. Pale hair, if not as pale as the heir’s, and wiry, most of it worn in the tight twists that Tobazel favored. A thick frizz of mustache covered more of his mouth than it revealed, but no hair cloaked his chin or jaw. No clan beads – the braids by both ears held only decorative ones – but his leather overtunic bore the clan totem across it subtly stitched in thread the same color as the leather. His eyes were the same near black that Ankulaz had... was there a family connection despite his lack of clan beads? Dwarves didn’t measure their offspring by what side of the blanket they came from, as Master Balin had described about Men and Elves. Many wars of Men or Elves had raged between who was a rightful heir and who was a bastard, but Dwarves didn’t worry themselves that way. Our habit was to fight about only supremely important things, such as games of skill, disputed lands, or other riches.

The younger one was owner of those wickedly narrow throwing knives we’d seen yesterday. I hoped Derfrulia would make him relinquish those to Tobazel. I was used to Fíli and his penchant for innumerable blades, but those narrow knives were for no good purpose, and better for Clan Kahgli to be well away from them.

Ankulaz still had the ridiculous head full of heir braids and beads, and his necklace of charms. His clothing, however, was unadorned, sturdy, and workmanlike for all its fine make and materials. His personal pack was small, but well stuffed, and figured only with small runes that spelled his name. The bow on his saddle seemed finely made, though I couldn’t tell much from this distance; his quiver was full, and his saddle was sturdy and in good repair. I hoped that those all meant that he’d come prepared to work, rather than cause trouble.

Alabrin stood by Mhornar and added his soft growl to his consort’s low rumble. He shared her concern, then.

Flanked by Yanna and Merruli, Derfrulia sat her pony and waited for Clan Urghul to draw near.

“Typical,” Tobazel threw ahead, scoffing. “Skulking out of camp, hoping to slip away from the duties ye owe Clan Urghul, are ye?”

“It’s good of you to arrive too late to help dismantle the camp,” Derfrulia smiled. “We’ve got a day or two before we have to watch our goods for pilferage.”

Tobazel laughed as if he’d been paid the highest compliment rather than been accused of laziness as well as stealing. “I like a dam so quick with her adder’s tongue, I do. I’ll take the three ponies ye owe Clan Urghul for the ones my heir and his seconds bring to ye, and be on my way.”

“Take your own ponies in hand, Tobazel. We equip our contract hunters with stock we’re sure of.”

That caused some muttering, but Ankulaz didn’t show offense, merely got off his pony, and methodically stripped the tack from it. As his seconds followed suit, Merruli motioned Barkhuzi and two other Dwarves forward, each leading a pair of ponies. As the youngest, I would have helped them, but Fíli divined what I was about, and held me in place with a pointed look at my bow.

Valar. If I’d been ordered to shoot, would I have?

Fortunately, I didn’t have to find out. The ponies were presented, Clan Urghul made their choices, and Clan Kahgli gave them a thorough grooming, even though they’d gotten one this morn. It was important to see to the health and comfort of our animals, but it didn’t escape me that the Clan Urghul Dwarves had to stand uncomfortably during the process. Maybe the point was to impress on the three Dwarves about to join us that we took pains with our stock... or maybe not. At length, Merruli ensured that the Urghul saddles and pads wouldn’t chafe, and allowed the three Dwarves to tack up the ponies and mount them.

“I’ll see those assassin’s knives in your hands, Tobazel,” Derfrulia ordered, pointing with her chin to Ankulaz and his seconds. “They’ve no place in Clan Kahgli, so take them back to your lands, what remains of them.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Tobazel grinned. “Leave my fosterlings unarmed in the middle of ye, am I right?”

“There’s no time for pub games and town intrigues out on the steppes. Honest blades and bows are welcome. If I find any of those viper's fangs once we ride east, I’ll confiscate them and consider that grounds to send your fosterlings home.”

Tobazel looked angry, but I was more interested in the expressions of Ankulaz’s seconds. The stolid one didn’t change expression, but the pale one glowered. He was the one who’d used them yesterday at the trials, and he didn’t like giving them up. They were familiar, favored weapons, then. At Tobazel’s growled command, he pulled up his sleeves and unbuckled a set from each forearm – Valar, he had _two_ sets, not just one? – and handed them in their scabbards over to one of Tobazel’s seconds. Ankulaz dug a sheathed set out of his pack, and handed it to his father. The dour second didn’t stir, so they weren’t his weapons of choice.

“Are ye happy now, ye persnickety dam?” Tobazel demanded as he stuffed his son’s sheathed blades into his tunic.

Derfrulia turned back to the east without comment, and Clan Kahgli fell in after her, leaving the Clan Urghul Dwarves to make whatever farewells they chose. None of the outliers unnocked an arrow, only lowered their bows a bit. I followed suit as I fell into line, and snuck a look back to see whether what our new contract hunters would do.

Tobazel exchanged words with his heir with furrowed brow and angry eyes. Maybe Derfrulia’s lack of a formal farewell was an insult. But the clan leader and his two seconds took their ponies in hand and turned north without further comment. As the heir and his seconds fell in at the back of our procession, I breathed a silent sigh that was as much regret as relief. Three flies had flown into the batter, as Maamr was wont to say, but three more, including the blustery one, were about to depart in silence.

I should have known Tobazel could no more depart in silence than my brother could resist throwing his knives as Maamr’s roof beams. The clan chief rode right across Derfrulia’s path, crowding so close to the horse maid that her pony snorted in protest.

“See that you treat Clan Urghul with all the respect we’re due, Derfrulia!” the ragged Dwarf snapped, as his accusing forefinger stabbed an insult with every word. “Don’t pin your hopes on the likes of Durin, who’ll give you nothing for your trouble but a head full of ale dreams and cold, dead ashes. What respect does anyone owe a clan who hires out their gangrel bairns so that their wastrel regent can squat on his arse at his ease?”

Before I even registered the act, I’d raised my bow, pulled my arrow back, and let it fly. A collective gasp went up as it severed the very tip end of Tobazel’s clan braid, taking his bottommost clan bead with it as it flew across the steppe and thunked into the ground. Fíli shot me a startled look, then opened his mouth to yell at me.

Oh, Valar, what had I done? I’d gotten both my brother and me expelled from Clan Kahgli, that’s what I’d done –

“I cry insult!” Tobazel bellowed, driving his pony towards me. “I cry insult!”

Fíli shut his mouth and urged his pony forward, blocking the furious clan leader from riding me down. “And I cry insult to Clan Durin, sir. Whether you like it or not, Thorin Oakenshield is king of us all. Your disrespect to him will do you no favors in the council halls of our folk, where he’s known as a principled regent and a hard worker. Your words would gain you a far harsher retaliation than the loss of a bead – maybe they’d call for you to step aside as head of your clan in favor of your son. So call Clan Urghul and Clan Durin even today, and we’ll both go our ways unscathed.”

Merruli and Yanna snapped something about Tobazel threatening Derfrulia on top of everything else, but I didn’t hear anything but the noise of angry voices. While Tobazel fumed, Fíli looked back at me, a thunderous look on his face. I racked my thoughts for what he wanted me to do, but it wasn’t until he brushed his clan braid that I sorted it out. I slung my bow over my shoulder and rode around the Urghul Dwarves to find my arrow. Alabrin led me right to it, so I pulled it out of the ground without dismounting. Thank the Valar, the end of Tobazel’s braid was still tangled around the shaft, which spared me the humiliation of crawling over the grass on my hands and knees to find the damned bead. I untangled the bead from my arrow, stuck my arrow in my quiver so that I was unarmed, and rode back around the six with my dogs to flank me. When I was before them, I dismounted, carried the bead to the grizzled clan leader, and offered it to him. The protocol was to offer a low bow over the bead, but that would imply acceptance of guilt. To make the most of Fíli’s feint to cry matching insult on Clan Urghul, I made only the briefest acceptable acknowledgment.

“Clan Durin agrees to forget,” I said as steadily as I could. Tobazel’s eyes bored into me, but I held his eyes without blinking.

“Clan Urghul agrees to forget,” Tobazel growled, snatching back his bead. He didn’t offer even a bare nod to match mine. “This time.”

He and his seconds turned their ponies north, and rode off with a clatter of hooves, leaving me in a flurry of dust. I stared after them until the drifting cloud wouldn’t make me cough when I faced Fíli and Clan Kahgli, but eventually, I had to turn around. Most of Clan Kahgli had resumed their way after Derfrulia, Merruli, and Yana, but my brother rode towards me with the grimmest look on his face. I stayed on the ground as he jumped off his pony and stalked towards me to deal my ear a painful cuff.

“You fucking idiot!” he hissed. “What possessed you to shoot at the head of another clan, for the love of the Valar?”

“I-I don’t know,” I winced, dropping my eyes to my boots. “He insulted Uncle Thorin, and I’d shot before I even thought, Fíli. I’m sorry.”

Fíli’s next cuff was hard enough to make me wince. “Sorry now isn’t much use, doh kro. You’re just fucking lucky I thought to counter with our own cry of insult, aren’t you? And that the bastard backed down.”

“I know,” I kept my head down. “I’m very, very sorry, Fíli. Thank you for speaking up for me, and for knowing the protocol better than I do. I didn’t know about the council hearing and so forth.”

Unexpectedly, Fíli snickered. “You’re lucky twice, doh kro. I made that part up on the spot, gambling that Clan Urghul didn’t know the protocol any better than you did. And if you grin, I’ll cuff you again. You can’t let on that what I said was more shit than substance.”

“Valar,” I breathed, and bit my cheek hard to keep admiration off my face. “Thank you again, brother.”

“Welcome.” The gloved hand that cuffed me this time was more playful than angry, but I didn’t smile. “Perfect shot, too, but you will _never_ tell anyone that I said that.”

I gave Fíli the bow he deserved. “I won’t. Thank you.”

“Fuck them, anyway. He shouldn’t have insulted Uncle Thorin.”

I heartily agreed, but said nothing as I waited for Fíli to remount. I got on my pony and followed him to catch up with Clan Kahgli, keeping a humble expression on my face as we rode past the three Clan Urghul Dwarves at the back of the train. All three eyed me with a mixture of menace and wariness. As I resumed my place as one of the outliers, though, several of the Clan Kahgli Dwarves winked at me, and a few even grinned outright.

I kept my smile invisible and my posture properly chastised so as not to undermine Fíli’s authority, but inside, I was well content.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli and Kíli's work on the steppe begins in earnest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features an antelope hunt and the resulting preparation of the meat. It's nothing graphic, but if this makes you uncomfortable, just skip those few paragraphs.

I kept my head up and sat my horse properly as Fíli and I trotted past the Clan Urghul Dwarves, but I admit that I relaxed when I resumed my place outside the line of pack ponies.

Fíli didn’t, riding ahead of me with a watchful eye.

It was over, wasn’t it? The head of Clan Urghul and his seconds were gone, weren’t they? And his heir and his seconds had joined the caravan, hadn’t they? What else was there to worry about?

The word passed from rider to rider, reaching me soon enough. Derfrulia wanted a word.

I winced. Why had I forgotten that I owed allegiance to Clan Kahgli as well as Clan Durin? Fíli had had his say, but I still had to face the horse maid.

Oh and oh – what if she were about to demand her clan bead back, and send me home to Thorin’s Hills in disgrace?

Fíli appeared at my side, ready to escort me.

“No, Fíli,” I pleaded. “This is on my head, not yours. I’ll take my punishment without complaint, whatever it is, so you don’t have to go along to make sure I do.”

Fíli’s eyes flickered, not liking my request. But he nodded. “See that you do, brother. I don’t want to be the only one of us out here for the next year.”

I swallowed, but nodded before my brother resumed his place in the line. I rode ahead to fall in beside the horse maid.

“I’m sorry, I was reckless, I didn’t think, whatever punishment you set me I’ll do, just don’t blame Fíli for any of it,” I said, as soon as I was beside her.

Derfrulia’s reply to my babbling was a soft chuckle. “At least you know you were reckless. Criminally impulsive, too.”

I swallowed. I didn’t know else I should have disputed such a grave insult to Uncle Thorin, but I didn’t protest. I didn’t want Derfrulia to have a reason to drag Fíli into this.

“On the other hand, you were loyal and decisive.”

“I.... what?” I gaped at Derfrulia in surprise.

Another chuckle. “This isn’t Thorin’s Halls, Kíli. We don’t generally argue points of protocol on the grass.”

“You... don’t?”

Derfrulia’s voice was patient. “We don’t. Tobazel insulted our king and your uncle, and you had the right to reply to it. If you’d just called insult, you would’ve been solidly in the right, and he’d have been just as solidly in the wrong. On the other hand, you likely did the only thing that would have registered with the old boulder. You were lucky that your shot was so precise, and didn’t draw blood. You were lucky again that Fíli had the presence of mind to counter Tobazel’s cry of insult with a more serious one. Otherwise, Clan Kahgli would have had to stand witness as Clans Durin and Urghul settled it with blades. You’re a bit young to face your first duel.”

I shut my gaping mouth, and didn’t have to pretend to look abashed. “Oh. Valar.”

“Dwalin’s trained you more than well enough to kill if you’re pressed, but I don’t expect you’ve done so yet. If you’d managed to do it, it would have been a grim moment. There is no going back after you’ve killed a fellow Dwarf.”

“No, lady.” I bowed my head and swallowed hard. “I hope it never happens. Orcs and goblins are one thing, but... I’m not in a lather to reach even that moment.”

“Wise of you.”

“So... what punishment am I to serve? I won’t make an ass of myself and argue about it. I promised Fíli I wouldn’t, no matter what you set me to do, just... please, don’t send me back to Thorin’s Halls. Or Fíli, either.”

“I didn’t call you out here to levy punishment, lad. You came close to disaster, but whether by design or sheer fool’s luck, you came out all right. I called you out here to warn you – don’t trust that to happen so neatly again. You and your brother watch your backs. Yanna’s already given you one reason to do so, but you’ve just added another. I’ll tell you what I’m about to tell Ankulaz – your clans agreed to forget, so do so. Don’t start a feud where there isn’t one, and don’t put Clan Kahgli in a position where I have to pass judgment. I like you, Kíli, but out here on the grass, my herds come first. When anything threatens them, my judgment is swift and strong.”

I gulped at the implacable force in Derfrulia’s soft voice, and I scrambled to put all of my sincerity in my reply. “I won’t cause any trouble, lady, except for anything that threatens your herds. You have my promise.”

“I thank you. Keep your wits about you, and a strong spine. Now back to the line with you, lad. I’ve kept you too long out here as it is, and I’ve still got to deal with Ankulaz.”

I pressed my palms together over my chest, and bowed over them, then turned my pony back to the caravan. I kept my expression impassive as I resumed my place on the line, but I had a lot to think about, and a lot to tell Fíli when we had the chance. Ankulaz soon took my place at Derfrulia’s side, and I didn’t look at them, but instead gazed over the rolling land as if I searched for any threat.

For the moment, my biggest threats weren’t wolves out on the grass. They were other Dwarves. But I didn’t have to stare at Ankulaz to know that.

 

* * *

 

The conversation between Derfrulia and my brother was brief, and I was relieved when he came back to his duties looking neither mortified nor ashamed. He met my eyes without reserve, so I’d wait to ask him about what the horse maid said later, no matter how curious I was.

Interesting – Ankulaz rode forward to speak to the horse maid. Kíli gave him only a brief glance before he sent his gaze outward, watching for anything untoward, just as all the other Dwarves riding as outliers did. I took that as my guide, and followed suit.

We rode at a brisk pace directly east, not stopping for luncheon, but eating our rations in the saddle whenever we got hungry. Occasionally folk stopped to relieve themselves, in pairs or more so that someone was always aware. When I felt the same need, I rode ahead to Kíli for him to watch for me, and I paid him the same courtesy in return. By this point, outliers had grouped in pairs or more to share a word while they ate, so I fell in beside Kíli. While we ate, he passed Derfrulia’s warning on in a low voice. His demeanor was more thoughtful than upset.

“It could have been a lot worse,” he shrugged, glancing around to make sure he wasn’t overheard. “No punishment, which might outrage Maamr but not me, and I watch my back as a matter of course, so that’s no burden, either.”

“Maamr would’ve given Tobazel a few whacks with her axe long before she would’ve sent you to scrub the necessary,” I observed, smiling when Kíli suppressed a gleeful snort.

“She’d set him right,” my brother agreed. “That’d be worth the sight.”

“Valar, yes,” I smothered a grin. “When Maamr was done, that Dwarf would cower if she so much as looked at him.”

A flurry of pony hooves interrupted our snickers. Jiri, Clan Kahgli’s lead hunter, rode up to us.

“Kíli, Fíli, put your fiddles in the baggage, then come along. I’m taking a few hunters ahead to see about tonight’s supper.”

“Yessir!” we both chorused, drawing the hunter’s grin as he rode by to collect the rest of the hunting party. Kíli took both of our instruments, then spotted Cyth, who urged her pony towards us.

“I’ll keep those safe for you,” the Dwarf dam reached across her pony’s neck to take our fiddles from Kíli. “Mark what Jiri tells you, lads. He’s a wise one, and so’s his dog, so they’ll steer you right.”

“We will, Cyth!” I assured her, as Kíli climbed back on his pony. “Have the stewpot waiting!”

Her laughter rang in our ears as we called our dogs to our sides, then urged our ponies forward. Jiri soon galloped past Derfrulia, Yanna, and Merruli with three herders and their dogs, as well as another pair of hunters with their dogs. He waved to us, urging us to join him.

“None of Clan Urghul,” Kíli noted as we sped up.

“Good. It’ll be easier to learn what Jiri has to teach us if we don’t have to keep an eye out for them.”

Kíli’s grin was wide with relief. “Thank the Valar. Come on!”

We raced after the rest of the hunting party. I’m sure Kíli was twice as happy as I was to put aside the morn’s wrangling and revel in flying across the undulating steppe as fast as wind. Our dogs kept pace – what a sight it was to watch them and their companions stretch out their full stride, so fast and fleet that they seemed not to touch the ground. The herding dogs weren’t as fast, but their shorter legs were a blur of motion as they raced their taller brethren. It was a glorious twenty minutes that took us out of sight of the caravan. The world became simple, just the vast open bowl of the blue sky above, and the rippled grassland below. Jiri swerved toward us, urging us to slow with the other hunters, though the three herders continued to speed ahead with their dogs. The wolfhounds circled back to us when they saw us slow to a walk. As the five hunters gathered into a circle to hear what Jiri had to tell us, our dogs paced restlessly, eager to work.

The lead hunter was a quiet one, from his soft voice to his unassuming garb all in muted shades of green, grey, and brown – exactly the color of the steppe this time of year. He told us that the herders and their dogs would find antelope ahead of us, ease around them, then drive them towards us to shoot. Kíli and I were the only ones new to this, so he added a few words for our benefit that amounted to don’t shoot at something if a Dwarf or a dog were in line with your shot, and don’t ride in front of a Dwarf who lined up a shot. Such practical advice was obvious, but given how new everything else was, I resolved to pay close attention before I let any of my arrows fly. Advice dispensed, the five of us spread across the steppe about twenty paces apart, and continued to trot forward. We didn’t talk much, or whistle to our dogs while we waited for the herders to appear; sound traveled far over the empty land, and we didn’t want to alert the antelope to our presence before they saw us for themselves.

Perhaps half an hour passed. It was deceptively peaceful, for the only sounds were the soft steps of the ponies’ hooves, and the occasional sniff from one of the dogs. Kíli approached Jiri to ask if rabbits would be welcome for the pot, as the low spots between rises were full of the underbrush that the small creatures so loved. As we had to thread our way through those low warrens of tangled greenery anyway, Jiri allowed Kíli to send Alabrin and Mhornar to flush a few of the small animals out. He soon had four of the rodents hanging from his saddle. Several of the other hunters followed suit, though two were always on watch. I veered around to the other end of our chain of riders, and added one rabbit to my saddle before Jiri chirped to us, bringing us after him and the other hunters. He pointed ahead, and got his bow off his back and in hand. Our potential supper approached.

“The herders’ dogs will keep the antelope tightly bunched for us,” Jiri explained. “We circle the herd and take the beasts as fast as they come to us. The dogs may dart in among the beasts to keep them centered, so mind that you don’t shoot them by accident. Good hunting!”

There was no time for anything else. As we scrambled to spread ourselves across the steppe, the first antelope bounded towards us with dogs and herders in close pursuit. Our dogs must have recognized the formation, because they were just as excited as we were even before we gave them the alert signal. Alabrin bounced up and down on his hind legs, eager to see what came towards us, and Rinnala pranced beside me. Kíli was already in place, and Mhornar stood beside his pony, gazing forward intently and quivering with anticipation.

Here came the antelope! A cluster of perhaps eighty came darting towards us, jinking this way and that as they tried without success to elude the herding dogs. Jiri shouted and waved us forward, so we drove our ponies as fast as they’d run to complete the circle around the bounding creatures. We had to move fast, or the antelope would dash into the nearest thicket in the fold between rises, where it’d be much harder to catch them. Around and around we rode, targeting the beasts closest to us so no one risked a shot that might hit a pony, dog, or Dwarf. With nine dogs to keep the antelope from escaping and eight of us to shoot, we soon brought down all of the beasts. Kíli rode past me with his hair flying and his eyes bright. He still bore his bow, but his quiver was empty, so he hadn’t dawdled in his pursuit of our supper.

“Well done, lads!” Jiri called to us as we circled back towards him. “That was quick work. Dressing out won’t be so fast, but we’ll have a good supper to look forward to.”

We dismounted, and hobbled our ponies to keep them from wandering too far. The two oldest herders stayed mounted, and called the dogs to keep watch over the rest of us while we collected the antelope for butchering. I was proud that every one of Kíli’s fine arrows had hit its target cleanly, accounting for the biggest portion of our supper by far – two dozen of the creatures! I’d done well, missing only three. Altogether, we had nearly seventy of the small creatures to process. Not a one would go to waste, either – between Dwarves and dogs, we’d have enough to feed us for several days before we’d have to hunt again.

Kíli and I followed the example of our companions, who stripped off their tunics, drew their boot knives, and set to. Oh, Valar, Kíli would be embarrassed to put his pale and slender torso on display... but no, whatever he felt inside, he pulled his tunic over his head and stowed it on his pony’s saddle without a murmur. Would the other hunters and herders see fit to tease him?

“Oi, Kíli, you’re as pale as mare’s milk, and just as bare!” one of the hunters called, grinning, but his demeanor was teasing, not derisive.

“Yah, folk tried to claim that I was half ghost, but Maamr’s a dam of strong spirit, and she countered that quick enough. ‘Just look at how much he eats,’ she’d say.” Kíli planted his feet wide and put his arms akimbo, just like Maamr would do when she felt strongly about anything. He went on in a credible imitation of our mother’s exasperated voice. “‘No insubstantial spirit anywhere eats a tenth as much as he does! And look at him – all that food makes him grow as tall as a weed, so fast that even his hair can’t keep up with him! Valar, I hope I live long enough to see him fat and hairy one day, but I don’t know if any Dwarf can live that long!’”

That got a guffaw, from me as well as the rest of our companions, and nothing more was said about it as we resumed work. I smiled at Kíli, offering my admiration for his willingness to make a joke at his expense.

“Well done,” I whispered, as we stooped beside one of the antelope carcasses.

“I didn’t mind,” Kíli shrugged, giving me a happy smile. “I don’t care if folk laugh about how I look... as long as that’s all they do.”

“That was a good tale,” I went on. “And Valar, Kíl – you did Maamr dead on.”

That got me a gleeful snicker, which I couldn’t help but match with my own. Kíli had spoken no lie when he’d said that Maamr was a strong spirit.

We drew our boot knives, and set to. My brother and I worked well as a pair, having done this chore so often for Maamr that Jiri quickly saw that we knew what we were about. Once we got the intestines out, Kíli asked if the clan wanted only the meat, or if we should save the heart and liver, too. To our surprise, Drekkani, the hunter who’d teased Kili, explained that the clan had uses for more than just the heart and liver. Lungs went into the pot, stomachs made pouches and bags, and even the entrails could be washed out and boiled clean to make food casings, tent pole bindings, and pack fasteners. As we worked, we sorted out the various bits on old hides that Drekkani pulled from his saddle pack – hearts here, lungs there, and livers over there. The entrails went into a pile onto the ground for washing out in the next stream we came to.

I suspected that the youngest and newest additions to Clan Kahgli would shortly find themselves ankle deep in that stream, flushing scat out of antelope guts.

“How do we pack all this back to the clan?” Kíli wondered, as we began on the next carcass.

Jiri looked up from where he staked the cleaned carcasses to drain. “We don’t, lads. They’ll come to us this time. That’s why we took so many today – we didn’t have to lug them back.”

One of the hunters rode off to find the clan and steer them our way, but the rest of us kept at it – seventy antelope were a lot for just seven Dwarves to dress out, no matter how fast we were. Fortunately, several folk soon rode out to help, so matters progressed faster. Sure enough, as soon as the rest of the clan appeared, Kíli and I found ourselves among the throng of young Dwarves whose job it was to clean the entrails, but neither of us raised a complaint. I recalled what Cyth had said about no task being higher or lower than another, because they were all necessary. So Kíli and I treated this as any other job – Clan Durin wasn’t too proud to do whatever we were set to. Clan Kahgli seemed to appreciate our willingness, and if another clan’s folk looked upon us with distain, it was easy to ignore them. Kíli took no more notice than I did, even when Ankulaz’s light-haired second hissed about tall, skinny, gangrel Dwarves. But when he was past the trio, my brother smiled.

“What, you thought that was funny?” I hissed, as we squeezed out the entrails and piled them in baskets to haul to the stream.

“ _Skator_ , no,” Kíli breathed in reply. “But when someone repeats that tale I told about folk thinking I was half a ghost, Urghul might believe it, and that’s funny.”

“Why? Oh, Valar, you’re still on about that fire horse drabble.”

“You and I know it’s drabble. But if they don’t...” My brother shrugged.

More than once, Kíli had gone to elaborate, outrageous lengths to play a prank. Maamr still rolled her eyes about the time Kíli scooped the filling out of three of her apple pies and replaced it with stale bread bits, all without the pie looking like anyone but Maamr had touched it. He’d shared the pie filling with me, so I know he’d done it, but I still didn’t know how. This time, however, my brother’s preoccupation with Clan Urghul’s totem animal was not part of any prank about pies. He wanted to keep Clan Urghul off balance enough that they stayed clear of us. Despite the seriousness of that, I still smiled to think about those pies and the methodical effort that had gone into the illusion to cover his tampering. He’d be just as methodical as seeding Clan Urghul’s imaginations with hints of his otherworldliness.

Clan Urghul had no idea what they were up against, and I hoped they never found out.

 

* * *

 

I hadn’t expected to finish my first steppe hunt by hauling a basket full of freshly butchered antelope guts down through a thicket full of briars to a trickle of a stream, where I had to flush out the remains of the antelope’s last meals. It wasn’t the most savory of tasks, but not too bad when I realized that antelope scat smelled a lot better than the Dwarvish equivalent. I pulled off my boots and hiked up my trews with the rest of the lads, and duly washed out my share of the stuff. There was a lot of genial teasing back and forth about the chore, but I heard no more ribbing about my weird appearance. That eased an odorous chore even more, because I wasn’t the butt of anyone’s teasing.

A few Dwarves came by to murmur a good word about how I’d defended Uncle’s honor, but none of it was too public. Even though Derfrulia didn’t look over us, the matter was supposed to be forgotten just as we’d said in the ritual, and not worth public comment. But it gratified me that Clan Kahgli made their opinion known before letting it go. It’d been wrong of Tobazel to insult Uncle Thorin, it’d been right of me to protest the insult, and so on and so forth. Their support warmed me, but I murmured only brief thanks, nothing more demonstrative. Pride and boasting would sully Clan Durin’s standing, and I wouldn’t resort to either. Derfrulia’s warning about how close to disaster I’d come was foremost in my thoughts, and I was determined not to be so blindly impulsive again.

Clan Urghul, of course, came nowhere near me. Good.

Guts washed, I waded out, resumed my boots, and found my pony to retrieve my tunic. Despite the apparently easy acceptance of such an odd-looking Dwarf, I’d be glad to cover up. Oh, there were the four rabbits I’d gotten, so I skinned and dressed them out before I put my tunic back on. Fíli had gotten a rabbit, too, but he was still busy in the stream, so I dressed that one out while I waited for him. One final rinse, and I was able to pull my tunic back over my head at last! That settled my discomfort just as Fíli hauled his basket of guts towards me.

“Just my rabbit to do,” my brother exhaled as he came beside our ponies.

I pointed to the bundle wrapped in their skins. “I had time, so I did yours with mine. Maybe Cyth can use them for supper tonight?”

“Thanks, Kíl,” Fíli gave me a smile. “We’ll ask her.”

“I kept the fur, in case we can use it for something. If we get enough of them, we can line our coats for the winter.”

“We’ll ask if someone can help us with that.” Fíli stacked his basket atop mine, and we each took a side to lug them up the rest of the rise. As we crested it, Kíli pointed to the south where the last of the clan approached. Once they caught up, someone took charge of our baskets, and we resumed our places as outliers. The clan pushed on another few miles, well away from where we’d taken the antelopes. The smell of blood would surely draw wolves and other meat eaters, so it was prudent to make camp for the night at some distance, so as not to tempt the scavengers to come closer.

Another couple of hours passed and the sun was well on her way to the horizon when the clan elders called a halt. We unpacked our things from our ponies, then ran forward to help set up the tents we’d taken down so swiftly this morn. It took much less time to make camp tonight, for only the bare essentials came out – tents, grilling racks, and pots, mostly. Because we’d stay in this spot only tonight, we’d do without tent hearths and so forth; Dwarves had already set up a big central fire where we’d make a communal supper. Even the clan’s mast was only lightly rigged, and most of the banners stayed in the baggage.

Thank the Valar, grilling began just as the tents went up, so we wouldn’t have to wait long for our evening meal. The toothsome aroma of sizzling meat was maddening, and soon resulted in a lot of moaning and sighing in anticipation of the first taste. I was so preoccupied with that delectable aroma that I almost forgot about the rabbits, but at the last moment I remembered. When the tent I helped raise was done, I broke away long enough to take the meat to Cyth.

“I got these today before the hunt – can you use them?” I offered them to the old dam.

“Of course I can!” Cyth gave my hair a tug. “Oh, and you kept the skins, too. Good, they’re still the heavy winter coats – you’ll want them come cold weather. Do you know how to tan them?”

“I don’t,” I admitted. “But I can learn. They’re small.”

“We’ll see to it before long, then,” Cyth nodded. “Go soak them in the stream, and turn them inside out. I’ll give you a skin to wrap them in. You’ll want to keep them moist until you can flesh them, which won’t be until at least tomorrow.”

Mindful of wandering anywhere alone, I looked for Fíli, Klyn, or Barkhuzi to go with me to the stream with my skins. I found the first two just as they headed for the stream with water skins to fill, so I grabbed another one and hurried after them. Klyn listened as I explained to Fíli about the skins, nodding in agreement.

“Rabbit skin doesn’t take long to clean and condition,” the young Dwarf explained. “Keep as many of them as you can take before winter, even the thinner summer ones. Come one of the big blows from the northeast, you’ll want every scrap of warmth you can find!”

Rabbit skins soaked and water skins filled, we lugged our heavy, sloshing burdens back up the rise as Klyn told us about the big storms that blew off the ice bay of Forochel. Such storms were rare, as most blows came from the northwest and didn’t amount to much this far east, because the northernmost end of the Blue Mountains blocked the worst of them. But the big ice bay was east of the mountains, and when the wind blew from there, nothing saved the steppe from the full force of the blow.

It was hard to think about ice and snow and raging wind on this calm spring day, but even Thorin’s Halls had suffered through its share of blows. How did Clan Kahgli bear such weather on the near-featureless steppe? May it be long months before I found out.

Tonight’s routine was minimal, given the clan’s desire to reach its rich herds and the rest of its folk as soon as possible. The hunters, Fíli and me among them, took our dogs aside to groom and calm them before their supper, and we shared a few friendly minutes with Klyn and Barkhuzi doing so. Feeding our canine friends was next, and only then did we get our turn at the meat. After such a long day, I shoveled down whatever food I could grab, then looked forward only to falling on my face in our tent for a long sleep. But I couldn’t fall on my face just yet – most of the youngest Dwarves had the first stint as night watchers. Because we had so few ponies with us, it was the perfect time for the wisest and most experienced hands to shepherd the young ones and pass on what we needed to know so we’d protect our stock well.

I was so tired that I wanted nothing more than to sneak off and roll myself up in my blankets. But I was Clan Durin, and I’d vowed to be a fit second for my brother, so I got on the pony Fíli passed me, and trotted out behind Arkhanneh for my lesson. She was a tough old dam, her once gold hair now more white than flaxen, and she had a formidable, well-worn knife on her saddle almost as long as Fíli’s sword that had clearly seen long and expert service. Like so many of the Clan Kahgli Dwarves, her ear lobes were well stretched; hers held a collection of silver rings. She’d threaded a thick braid through each lobe, then pulled the braids back into the rest of her hair, to keep her ears safe against anything snagging them as she worked. Thickset and squat she might be on the ground, but she sat a pony with the same ease and fluidity that Barkhuzi did. Even as tired as I was, I appreciated her skill.

Arkhanneh wasn’t a demonstrative sort, but she nodded to me kindly and led me off to circle the hobbled ponies. As Alabrin and Mhornar trotted nearby with Arkhanneh’s dog, I grinned.

“At least my dogs know what to do, even if I don’t,” I sighed. “That’s something.”

“You’ll know before long, young Kíli,” the dam replied, her eyes on the ponies rather than me. “Don’t think no one’s noticed that you’re willing to learn and a hard worker. We like that. Keep on that way. It does you credit, and others would do no harm to themselves if they followed suit. Now, at night, the usual sort of stock we’d keep so close to the tents would be new dams and their young...”

Smothering my yawns, I paid close attention, and tried to remember all she said despite my weariness. Some was what Derfrulia had told me on my journey to the steppe, about moving quietly and humming, even getting down from my pony to mingle with the stock. Still, Arkhanneh had new things to teach me, about the phases of the moon, and how the smell of water on a hot and dusty day could drive the herds, and how the wolves took advantage of both. I was surprised at how quickly my two hour stint passed, because Arkhanneh didn’t mind answering my questions or explaining whatever I didn’t understand. When she urged me back to the tents with an admonition to sleep hard because morn would come early, I thanked her.

“And welcome,” her soft voice accompanied a firm thump of appreciation on my back, then a gentle push towards the still glowing embers of the communal fire.

“I see to my pony, yes? Where do I put the saddle?”

“Barkhuzi’s just between the family tent and the pack ponies, lad. He’ll show you.”

“I thank you again.”

I just barely made out the maid’s nod, so dismounted to lead my sturdy mount to her rest. I found Barkhuzi, who took charge of my saddle while I saw to the pony’s coat. He snickered at my cavernous yawns throughout the doing, but I stuck to my task. I saw the pony dry and comfortable before I called softly to my dogs and stumbled towards the necessary, if just a bare part of the steppe counted so formal a term. Valar, how good it would feel to lie back and let exhaustion overwhelm me... but I was hungry, so detoured to the communal fire, where a few folk still lingered by the embers. I wolfed down two bowlfuls of stew – rabbit, unsurprisingly – before I finally led Alabrin and Mhornar to our rest. I had them settled in their usual spots when Fíli and Rinnala came stumbling in.

“Valar, I’m tired,” my brother groaned as he flattened himself on his sleeping pad.

“Me, too.” I sat between my dogs and offered them both a caress before I lay down. “Did you eat?”

“I was almost too tired to, but I was too empty not to. Good rabbit stew.”

“Mmm,” I murmured, my eyes already closing. “Who’d you get for the night watch?”

“Drekkani. Talks faster than any pony can run. I hope I remember it all. You?”

“Arkhanneh. Much quieter, but she knows a lot, too. The night flew by.”

“Good. I’m well knackered.”

“It’s for a good cause.” I told him what Arkhanneh had said about the clan’s eyes being on us, which interested Fíli enough that he sat up to whisper at me over Mhornar’s back.

“Oh, they’re watching, be sure of that, and not just because we’ll soon watch over their stock. I got an earful of what the clan thought about Tobazel’s nonsense this morn, and they’re solidly behind us for now. I want to keep it that way.”

“Me, too. But right now, I’m so tired that if Clan Urghul came in force to ask for my head, I’d have to tell them to wait until morn until I was awake enough to offer a proper defense. I’m all but asleep now.”

Fíli lay back down again. “Then sleep, brother. You did us proud today, and I thank you.”

“I thank your quick tongue, too, Fíli. The last thing I want is to duel the head of a clan over anything.”

“ _Skator_ , no,” Fíli agreed. “At least the fool backed down.”

“Thank the Valar. I don’t want to duel, but if he hadn’t, I would’ve. No blowhard _nar thos kurvanog_ can insult Uncle Thorin without a protest.”

Fíli hummed in agreement. From the sound, he was almost past conversation, and I was, too. I shut my eyes. Sleep beckoned to me with eager fingers, and I dove after it without hesitation.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli and Kíli have their first encounters with Ankulaz's seconds, and Yanna reemerges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> skator-u, kautar shemator = go to hell, ugly squirrel (Black Speech)

It would likely take us three more days to reach Kahgli’s herds, but Kíli and I had lots to keep us busy during the journey. We spent most of our morn and evening hours with Drekkani and Arkhanneh to learn how to watch a herd during the day, how to read the weather, what the appearance of certain insects meant, how to navigate across the featureless steppe by the stars, and so much more. In the afternoon, when we weren’t at our lessons, Barkhuzi and Klyn schooled us on the fine points of riding, which amounted to us racing around the steppe like a quartet of gloriously speed-crazed Dwarves. Rinnala, Alabrin, Mhornar, Kulazhath, and Neyshath had just as much fun as we did, cavorting and chasing each other, often accompanied by the unattached dogs that seemed to thrive on Kíli’s gleeful enthusiasm.

We wouldn’t always be the students, however; our mentors told us that as soon as we joined the main part of the clan, we’d be called upon to offer instruction on blades and bows before we divided up to scatter across the steppe. There’d be a big feast to mark the start of the new spring, complete with games and contests, too. If Kíli didn’t get thrown aback the tallest horse in the herd, I’d be surprised. Last fall’s racing loss rankled more folk than Yanna, and they had high hopes that their tallest new hunter would help them avenge that loss. Did that make my brother nervous? When I asked him about it one night when we were in our blankets, he surprised me.

“A horse is just a bigger pony, Fíl, right?” he said. “And ponies like me, so I’ll be all right.”

I had no idea if a horse was just a big pony, but I admired Kíli’s newfound confidence. We’d been on the steppe less than two weeks, and already my brother had begun to shine like a new sword.

We didn’t have much contact with the three Urghul Dwarves, other than to nod warily at them. Some of that might have been by Kahgli’s design, but most reflected the relative difference in our skills – the Urghul Dwarves already were excellent riders, and knew much more about watching a herd than Kíli and I did. Of course they had mentors, but they seemed more to make sure the Urghuls knew Kahgli’s preferred ways, rather than to teach them the basic things they taught us.

Ankulaz’s dour second was Kazunki, an apt name for the Dwarf who never budged far from his heir’s shoulder. His name meant second, trusted follower, what Balin had told us the race of Men called the knights devoted to their kings. He wasn’t much older than Ankulaz, maybe ninety or so, but he looked and acted older, like an uncle more than anything else. He did wear a small clan bead in his right braid; maybe he was a cousin or more distant relation, for he looked nothing like his pale-haired superior. The third day out, he and the other two Urghul Dwarves went with Jiri to hunt, and Kíli and I were with those who rode out to help butcher the take. Kazunki was deft with his knives, and seemed to harbor no resentment when I ended up helping him with one of the antelopes. He nodded when I offered my name, offered his in return, and then said nothing else, but the silence between us wasn’t sullen, just workmanlike. He seemed comfortable in his skin, with little use for words. I wouldn’t rely only on my first impressions, but I felt more assured that I could make my way with Kazunki.

Kíli’s introduction to Ankulaz’s other second wasn’t so silent. I kept a surreptitious eye out for my brother when he stooped beside the pale second’s antelope to help lift out the guts. Kíli offered his name politely, not expecting much in return, but he got a small smile and a willing reply. I didn’t hear the chatter between them, but it went back and forth in a friendly enough manner. Kíli wasn’t the instigator; the other Dwarf seemed to do most of the talking.

As far as the steppe Dwarves knew, my brother was his usual guileless, artless self, glad to make a new friend, but I knew better. His body held just the slightest wary tension, so Kíli was on his guard. I kept him under my eye until he finished the antelope, then moved to the next one. The other Dwarf offered a brief smile and offered thanks for Kíli’s help, to which Kíli replied with a nod. My brother’s gaze came right to me as he stooped beside the next antelope carcass, cautioning me, so when I finished mine, I didn’t join him, but looked for another carcass to dress out.

Yanna had just started on one. Sight of the Dwarf maid had been scarce since Clan Urghul had forced their presence on us, so I willingly went to her aid as she slit open the carcass, and lifted out the guts without her asking.

“Fíli – thank the Valar,” the maid muttered under her breath. “You’re a relief.”

I chuckled. “Yah, the guts aren’t the best bit of the day, to be sure.”

“Neither are those pesky Urghuls. A lot of vultures.”

“Made their offers already, have they?” I teased, but the look Yanna sent me was nettled. “Sorry, maid. It’s nothing to tease about.”

“It’s nothing I can cry foul to, either,” she muttered. “Ankulaz is very polite, but Valar, how he tries to catch my eye, as if that head full of boasting were something I wanted to look at. Kazunki’s the best of the lot because he’s mostly silent, and he keeps his opinions as close as his words. Stolid as an old dog, that one is. But the third one is the worst of the lot with his chatter. Valar!”

I grinned. “I promise not to chatter, then, and I won’t to be too silent or polite. If you like, I can teach you some Black Speech, which is neither silent nor polite. In fact, it’s quite as foul as Orcs themselves are, and sounds just as bad as they smell. It’d be the perfect thing when you want to vent your displeasure.”

The maid offered me a reluctant smile. Even with such a grumpy expression on her face, she was beautiful, with her delicate fringe of chestnut beard that so perfectly complimented her hazel eyes, and those chiming silver bells were exquisite. When I smiled back, I was delighted when her expression eased.

“Yah, Black Speech well suits my mood around that lot,” she admitted as she worked. “A word or two would be welcome.”

“Well, then. I think the most appropriate curse for you to use would be _nar thos._ Literally, empty sack, so eunuch.” Yanna looked up at me sharply, but I plowed on. “If you want to make a double insult out of it, you say _kurvanog_ after it. That means... um, well, it means fucking, so fucking eunuch, which is a nasty way of calling someone the offspring of an ass and a horse, which is sterile...”

Yanna burst into laughter, which she quickly stifled, but the look she gave me was warm and full of hilarity. “Valar, Fíli, that is the perfect curse, indeed. Where in Middle Earth did you pick that up?”

I grinned as I carried the liver and heart to the designated piles. Yanna trailed after me with the lungs, then we returned to the carcass to stake it to drain. “Master Dwalin. My arms master, whom you met at the inn. He prides himself on knowing every epithet there is in any language, and he sees that his students are well versed. He suffers no fools, and those that ire him hear that particular curse quick as anything. Black Speech is a guttural tongue, and lends itself to a good snarl. Like this – _nar thos kurvanog_!”

I did my best imitation of Master Dwalin, and when Yanna’s laughter bubbled out of her again, I considered myself well rewarded.

“ _Nar thos kurvanog_ ,” Yanna murmured, trying out the words. She said it a second time with more emphasis, grinning at the result.

“Perfect. Deep in the throat, with feeling. A great stress reliever.”

“It will be,” Yanna agreed, as we turned to the next antelope. “Do you have any more Black Speech that might be equally useful?”

“Mountains,” I replied. “Kíli’s very good at it, too, so between us, we can likely supply whatever epithets you like.”

“I can’t wait to learn,” Yanna finally relaxed enough to grin from ear to ear. “Let Clan Urghul chew on a few mouthfuls of that. Maybe they’ll choke.”

“May I ask a personal question, Yanna? You won’t offend me if you don’t want to answer.”

She slit open the small animal with more force than she needed, but her sigh was resigned. “You want to know about the bad standing between Clan Kahgli and Clan Urghul.”

I nodded. “I don’t want to pry. But... I want to look out for Kíli and me, too. I’d like to steer us clear of Urghul, and remain in good stead with Kahgli. We’ve been here just two weeks, and haven’t even gotten to the real work yet, but Kíli loves it here already, and I want to keep it that way. Any help you can offer us, I’d be grateful for.”

“Aye, I did promise to help you,” the maid nodded, looking around briefly. “But here isn’t the place for it. In the tent, in our blankets, we can talk freely. Derfrulia won’t put any of the Urghul Dwarves there. She wants to give you and Kíli a refuge away from them, as well as me. So perhaps tonight, after supper?”

“Kíli and I take the first watch with Arkhanneh and Drekkani. Would after that be too late?”

“I’ll switch off with someone to be on the first watch, too. Then if any of us can stay awake, I’ll tell you what I know.”

“I thank you, maid,” I said with a smile. “I’ll pass the word to Kíli, so we’ll be awake. What’s the polite thing to do – do we invite you to visit us, or do we visit you?”

“Inside the tent, we’re family, and not so formal, but I thank you for asking,” she shrugged. “You’ve got three dogs, so it’ll be easier for me to come to you.”

“We look forward to it,” I grunted, heaving out the next set of guts. “Thank you.”

Yanna lapsed into silence, but our silence was companionable, warmer than what I’d shared with Kazunki, if more formal than what Kíli and I would share. It was a good compromise, and I was pleased that Yanna felt friendlier towards me.

I was also dead curious about what she’d tell Kíli and me later tonight.

When at last we finished the last of the antelope, Kíli and I once again traipsed to the nearest rivulet with baskets of entrails. Yanna and Ankulaz’s seconds did their part, but not the Urghul heir. That seemed snotty, but neither Kíli nor I made mention of it. Kíli glanced at the heir sitting atop his pony, gazing down at us as if he were master of us all, and snorted so quietly that I barely heard it.

“At least the other two aren’t above the work,” I breathed back.

This time, Kíli’s snort was louder.

“Shh, Kíl. Maybe only the underage Dwarves do this. He’s gained his majority.”

“Arkhanneh’s well past hers, and there she is,” Kíli refuted, cutting his eyes towards his mentor patiently washing out entrails some distance away. “As for that blond second...”

“What about him?”

“Later. When we’re in our blankets.”

“It’ll be a busy night tonight, then. Yanna’s paying us a visit.”

“What for?” Kíli straightened to offer me a puzzled frown.

“History lesson.”

“About what?”

“Maybe the trouble between Clan Kahgli and Clan Urghul.”

Kíli’s eyes widened. “Oh, and oh. That’ll be a tale. Better than what I have to say about that second. But I’ll give you something to think about until we’re in our blankets, unless you’ve already heard. Do you know what his name is?”

“Who, the blond second? The silent one’s Kazunki.”

“Um,” Kíli considered. “Suits him. The trusted second.”

“Exactly. I’ve no idea about the other one, though.”

Kíli gave another near silent snort and leaned forward until his mouth was near my ear. “Naggrundaz.”

I looked at my brother, but his intent eyes told me I’d heard him correctly.

Naggrundaz meant Ruinous.

What sort of Dwarves gave their son a name like that? And if they didn’t, what sort of Dwarf took that name willingly?

As Kíli and I stacked our baskets of entrails and began our trek up the rise, I couldn’t keep myself from glancing at Ankulaz’s pale-haired second.

He caught my eyes, and smiled.

 

* * *

 

Fíli and I handed off our baskets of cleaned guts to the Dwarves collecting them, then gladly collected our dogs. The normally subdued Mhornar bounded towards me as if she hadn’t seen me in a week. I had just time to brace myself before she put her front paws on my shoulders to lick my face. Laughing, I scrubbed her flanks with my fingers, then took her slender head in my hands to give it a gentle shake.

“And good eve to you, too, pretty shadow! Yes, I’m right here, no need to knock me down, silly maid! Valar, Mhornar – yes, I love you very much, too. Come, settle. I won’t venture from your side, no, I won’t.”

Alabrin took advantage of my distraction to put his front paws on my back, which did send me to the ground. His face was smug and triumphant at his trick, so funny that I couldn’t scold him. He nosed my ear, gave me a sloppy lick, then sat on his haunches to admire his handiwork. I sat up in time to see him and Mhornar exchange grins, almost as if they’d planned their attack. Fili watched this, laughing.

“The joys of two dogs, eh, Kíli?” he teased.

“Only one of many,” I agreed, rubbing both of my dogs fondly. “Yes, you had your trick on me, didn’t you? Come, settle down with me. The sooner you calm, the sooner you eat.”

Rinnala decided her mates had had too much fun to resist, so danced behind Fíli to push his back with her front paws, just as Alabrin did so often to me. Fíli didn’t quite go down, but he turned to give his queen an exasperated look as he plopped himself down beside me.

“Yes, I’m down, too, Rinn, so you’re the only one left on her feet.” He patted his thigh. “Here, take your favorite spot. The sooner you do, the sooner you eat, just as Kíli says.”

Rinnala tucked herself down neatly, ever the glamorous queen, and laid her head down on Fíli’s knee to favor him with a soulful gaze. Klyn and Kulazhath soon joined us, then Barkhuzi and Neyshath, then a few more of the hunters and their dogs, and we all had a good laugh over today’s efforts while our dog rested enough to safely eat their supper.

Now that friends surrounded me, I eased a little of the wariness I’d kept close during the aftermath of today’s hunt. I hadn’t intended to be so quick to approach any of the Urghul Dwarves, but in hindsight, maybe it had been better to confront them now rather than later. Back in Thorin’s Halls, I’d staved off more than one altercation with my tormentors just by facing them when they least expected me to. I can’t say that that tactic was in my thoughts when I'd ended up beside Ankulaz’s blond second – I’d just automatically moved to the carcass because it was the closest one to me, and had only realized who had sliced open the belly after I’d heaved out the entrails. Maybe I’d been as startled as he was, but I’d recovered first.

“Kíli,” I’d offered quickly, in as steady a voice as I could cobble together.

“Naggrundaz,” he’d offered in return, as smoothly as if he’d expected me.

Naggrundaz? Really? His name was _Ruinous_? Valar, that wasn’t an auspicious name for anyone. What tale lay behind that? I’d kept any surprise off my face, and had concentrated on my butchering.

“Aye, it’s an awkward name, but it’s proper that I offer it to you,” the Dwarf had shrugged. A self-deprecating smile had touched his lips. “I prefer Grun, if you’d indulge me.”

“Done,” I’d replied. “I appreciate your candor.”

“I appreciate your indulgence. Especially after I know you heard me speak ill of you two days ago. I didn’t mean it.”

I’d eyed him, but he’d smiled and shrugged again.

“I have to stay in Ankulaz’s good graces. I’m sure you understand what it’s like to deal with the biases of the heir to your clan.”

“Not an easy companion, then?”

Another smile and shrug. “Those braids of his tell a story, don’t they? You know what that’s like.”

I didn’t, and so I’d said so. “Fíli’s the best brother, friend, and heir anyone could be. I’m proud to second him.”

“Fortunate, indeed. Kind to everyone, then?”

I’d grinned. “The best of brothers. As for the heir business, we don’t put much stock in it.”

“Doubly fortunate, then. But then, your brother hasn’t reached his majority yet. Likely things will change when that time comes.”

I’d chuckled. “We’ve decades before that. We’re more concerned with making our way in the world than any of that nonsense. We both like to eat, and work lets us do that.”

“Not much hope for alliance, then?”

I’d thought about Master Dwalin, who loved his blades... then about that eerily fucking menace I was trying to be to properly second Fíli. “Clan Durin’s already spoken for Fíli, and other callings have already spoken for me. Even if they hadn’t in my case, no maid will ever appeal to me more than my bow does, unless she’s an armorer.”

“Other callings?”

I’d known better than to say anything stupid, so had merely met his eyes and tried to look soberly mysterious. Grun had chuckled, then offered another shrug. _Skator_ , did he know any other expressions? I’d been glad when the only thing left to do for the carcass was stake it to drain, which I’d left for Grun to do. He’d thanked me for my help; I’d lifted a hand in welcome, and made my way away. As soon as I’d come to another unattended carcass some distance away, I’d stooped beside it. I’d looked around for Fíli, found his eyes on me, and sent him the look that said not to worry, but hold off. I hadn’t wanted Grun to know that I considered our exchange a troubling one, nor think I ran to my brother every time I had a troubling one. There would be plenty of time to tell Fíli everything when we were in our blankets. Until then, I’d wanted to stay away from all of the Urghul Dwarves, so when Arkhanneh had joined me, it had been a relief.

These few moments among friendly faces, both Dwarvish and canine, were an even bigger relief. Grun and his two mates didn’t have dogs, so they wouldn’t venture near, which suited me well.

In short order, the dogs were calm enough to feed. We stuffed our faces soon after, and just in time – the sky had clouded over, and a steady spring rain began to fall. The rain didn’t change the need to guard the herd, though, so Arkhanneh still fetched Mhornar, Alabrin, and me for our watch lesson, and Drekkani still beckoned to Rinnala and Fíli. A warm as it was, Fíli and I followed the steppe Dwarves’ example, stripping off tunics to keep them from getting sodden. I forgot about awkward conversations to pay my teacher the close attention she deserved, snickering to myself when I thought about how I hadn’t always paid Master Balin so well back in Thorin’s Halls. But the movement of the herd in rainy weather and the wolves that preyed on them was much more interesting than dry history of past generations, and I offered no apology for that.

When our two-hour stint was done, I made sure that Fíli and I saw to our ponies together, released them to Merruli together, got a last bite to eat together, and walked to our tent together. Fíli didn’t tease me about it, so he accepted that I had reason to be wary. As we reached the family tent without interruption, his trust in my instincts made me feel good.

 

* * *

 

Because we still journeyed, there was no central hearth in the tent tonight. Cyth had left a small lamp burning, though, so I saw well enough to dash to the neatly folded bundle of rags beside it.  I brought several back to Kíli who had remained by the tent door with our dogs, and we rubbed all three of our friends with brisk hands to remove as much water from their coats as possible. They weren’t dry, by any means, and neither were we, but at least we wouldn’t soak everything in our space for the night.

Yanna was still out with the herd, so Kíli quickly relayed the conversation he’d had with Grun over the antelope. I rubbed one of the dog’s cloths over my hair to dry it a bit more, unraveled my wet braids, then fished out my comb from my pack to untangle the mess. "So Ankulaz has a touch temper, and he's vain."

“Maybe.”

I kept working on my tangled braids, but when Kíli didn’t say more, I nudged him with my foot. My  brother shoved it out of the way as a matter of course, but thoughtfully, without heat, so I let the silence stand for a bit longer before I poked him again.

“Come on, Kíl. You’re chewing on something, so let’s hear it before Yanna gets here.”

“I haven’t sorted everything yet.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“He reminded me of those maids who talked to me only as a means to get to you. But I don’t think he wanted to get to you – he wanted to needle me, with all that talk of how I understood what it was like to deal with a temperamental heir. And when I said you were the best brother, he said that’d change when you reached your majority. He wanted to see if he could drive a wedge between us.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Then that bit about alliances, trying to see if I’d tell him we were out here to ally with Clan Kahgli.”

“You shut that down,” I observed, thinking of Dwalin. It was a common habit for folk like the arms master to devote themselves to their craft or profession, rather than a wife or husband. Oin and Balin had made the same choice; Gloin and our Maamr were the rare folk who’d chosen a family. I didn’t know yet how I felt about it, but I likely wouldn’t have a choice. One day, I’d be forced to marry some maid to carry on the line of Durin, but that was a long way off, and I was happy to leave it that way.

“He likely didn’t believe me,” Kíli shrugged. He grimaced as soon as he made the gesture. “He shrugs all the time, like he has a nervous tic. And that smile. I don’t trust anything I saw or heard, and that includes what he said about Ankulaz. And I bet when he talks to you, he feels you out for what it’s like to suffer such a gangrel brother.”

“You know I don’t call you that.”

“Course not. But I bet he’ll call me that. Maybe he won’t use those words, but that’s what he’ll mean.”

“I could pretend that I do think of you that way, and then we could wait to see how long it takes for him to tell you that. Then we’d know for sure us that he wants to drive a wedge between us. Or we could assume that’s what he wants to do, and I can say that you truly are that eerily fucking menace you’re trying so hard to be. That's why you said what you did about 'other claims,' yes? You meant some sort of mysterious calling?”

Even in the dim light of the central lamp, Kíli’s expression was clearly grim and wary, not amused. “I don't know what I meant, exactly, so it truly is a mysterious calling to me as well as him, whatever it is. So yes, I’d appreciate the second path, Fíl. I can’t explain it in words, but I didn’t need Mhornar beside me to know that what Grun showed me isn’t what’s inside him, so I won't show him what's inside of me, either. I’ll keep my distance from him, and anything that convinces him to keep his distance from me is all to the good.”

I passed on my impressions about Kazunki, but after considering the shifty nature of Naggrundaz, maybe I hadn’t looked hard enough at the dour second. Maybe his silence was less nature and more devious mask.

“It’s more than I can think about tonight,” Kíli lay back with a yawn. “I’m knackered.”

“So am I.” Watching my brother lie down reminded me just how tired I was, and it was all I could do not to follow his example. But if Yanna came in and saw both of us all but asleep, she might not come over to tell her tale, and no matter how tired I was, that was a tale I was determined to hear. So I stayed sitting cross-legged on my sleeping pad, and refused to let Rinnala’s reproachful eyes urge me flat.

As the minutes passed, as Kíli fell asleep between his dogs, I got closer and closer to giving in to my weariness. Just when I couldn’t resist any longer, there was a slight rustle at the door of the tent. There was Yanna, pulling her boots off, then padding to the lamp to grab a drying cloth to rub over her wet hair.

I reached over Alabrin to shake Kíli’s leg.

He started, then growled. “ _Skator-u,_ _kautar_ _shemator_.”

“Get up, Kíl,” I whispered.

“What for?”

“Yanna’s here.”

Kíli pried his eyes open, and managed to sit up without groaning. Just in time – Yanna finished drying her hair, and made her way towards us.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yanna has a story to tell; so does the steppe. Fíli and Kíli learn a lot about both.

I pried my eyes open. _Dahaut_ , all I wanted was sink into my blanket and forget everything until the morn. Even the discomfort of wearing clothes to bed wasn’t enough to keep me awake for long. If my fucking brother would just stop tugging on my leg and hissing at me –

“Yanna’s here,” Fíli whispered.

That opened a hole in the fog that clouded my brain. I sat up to rub bleary eyes just as the Dwarf maid paused at the edge of our space. Alabrin was in his usual spot, solidly in the middle of our space, so I wrapped arms around his ribs and urged him onto the foot of my sleeping pad.

“Come, Alabrin,” I whispered, ignoring his longsuffering look. “Make room for Yanna, that’s a good lad.”

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” the maid whispered, as Mhornar crept towards the folded tunic that made my pillow so Alabrin had more room beside her. I slid up, too, and Fíli gestured to the space we’d cleared for Yanna to sit down, but she hesitated. “Kíli, you’re all but asleep. My pardon. I can come back tomorrow, if you’d rather.”

“No, no, please,” Fíli assured her, sending me a look. “You’re kind to hold off your rest for us. I thank you.”

I was still stupid with sleep, but I understood my brother very well. Back in Thorin’s Halls, I’d gone out of my way to avoid all dealings with maids. They invariably disparaged me, and when they didn’t, it was only because they wanted to get to Fíli through me. So when Fíli and I were together when a maid came near, he’d talk to her while I stayed mute in the background. The maid soon forgot about me, which gave me the perfect chance to see what her gestures and tones revealed. Often enough, I’d pick up some quirk that helped Fíli decide whether she was interested in more than his standing in Clan Durin. The Clan Kahgli maids I’d met so far were older, not interested in Fíli that way, and valued my skills, so they’d spoken to me with more kindness, and I’d dared to speak to them now and again. I didn’t expect Yanna to be any less compassionate, but as this might be an important conversation, Fíli and I would hold to our old habit to see what we’d learn. I edged back a little more, settling between my dogs and draping an arm around each one, which left Yanna and Fíli to face each other.

Yanna folded herself down cross-legged with a grace that I hadn’t mastered yet, then darted a quick look to the back of the tent. Derfrulia and Cyth both slept in their spaces, so despite the rule of privacy within one’s blankets, she leaned towards Fíli as if she didn’t want to be overheard. Fíli leaned closer and give the maid his best attention. I stilled and pretended to be invisible.

“So... the reason for the ill will between Kahgli and Urghul,” Yanna began. She hunched in on herself, so uncharacteristic for such a confident maid that my sleepiness vanished. “We don’t speak of it... for many reasons.”

She glanced at Fíli, but he didn’t push, only nodded in understanding.

“It began a bit more than twenty-five years ago. I was about your age then, Fíli. We don’t know everything that happened. But whatever did... my mother... died.”

“A hard, sad day,” Fíli said simply.

Yanna glanced at my brother. “You know about a parent’s loss, then?”

Fíli shook his head. “Not the way you do. Clan Durin rule favors the sire, but it can pass through either the sire or dam, whoever’s the eldest. Uncle Thorin’s never taken a wife, and his younger brother died battling the Orcs in the Valley of Azanulbizar, what some folk call the Dimrill Dale, outside the gates of Moria. So... if Clan Durin was to have heirs, it fell to his sister, our Maamr, to make them. The rule favoring the sire are likely why she never took a husband, to ensure that she remained coregent with Uncle Thorin. She’s never spoken of our father, so... he was never there to miss.”

“Complete loss, or sudden loss...” Yanna sighed. “I don’t know which is worse.”

Fíli hummed in commiseration. “Likely sudden loss. You knew what you’d had before you lost it. We didn’t. You have our condolences.”

Yanna accepted Fíli’s offering with a nod. “The clans had gathered for the spring horse sales. Clan Kahgli did well, in large part because the previous winter had been unusually harsh. The good that came out of that was how heavy our goats’ wool had grown, and we found a ready market for it. The bad that came out of that was that Clan Urghul’s ponies had suffered in the cold more than ours had – their range is north of ours, and the storms off the ice bay had decimated their animals. We’d suffered, too, but not nearly so badly. So while some clans had many fewer ponies to offer, we didn’t, and we sold every one we offered at a fine price – horses, too. We were well able to afford supplies for the following season.

“By all accounts, Clan Urghul was in desperate straits. I saw the state of their stock myself – ragged, and many less than their usual. Their folk were little better. Everyone dresses up for the sales because it’s a festival after the buying, selling, and trading is done, and a fair bit of courting and wooing goes on because so many of our folk are together. Urghul, though, looked as if they’d barely survived starvation. So I believe my eyes as well as my ears about the hardships they’d faced, and would continue to face.”

“Your clan and theirs were on good terms then?” Fíli asked softly.

Yanna paused, but after consideration, she shook her head. “This will sound harsh, Fíli, but... Clan Urghul has always been a rough, uncouth lot. Too much drinking and wagering, even for Dwarves, and they were never overgifted with courtesy. Not one of them can hold a wolfhound, and you’ve seen why. You’ve seen Tobazel yourself, too; he’s rude, presumptuous, filthy, ill-mannered, loutish...”

Fíli looked at his lap to hide his chuckle, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “No manner of riches could gild such a Dwarf, then.”

“Not at all,” Yanna admitted with a reluctant, sheepish smile. “Granted, they have a hard life, being so far north, and their ponies are tough and sturdy, well regarded for their stamina. Still... I have never found anything to admire about them.”

Fíli nodded in understanding. “Go on.”

“During the sales, the rumor went around that Clan Urghul would put part of their range up for trade – the land for stock and supplies. No clan does that unless they’re desperate. I believe they were because of what I saw of them and their stock, and so did my mother, grandmother, and uncles. If so, then perhaps we would bid for the range. Even when they were in good straits, Clan Urghul had pressed my grandmother hard for alliance, which she wanted no part of, whether between Tobazel and my grandmother or my mother, or Ankulaz and me. So if we could successfully bid for Clan Urghul’s lands, we would pay them the supplies and the stock they sought. We would also return their lands to them, if they gave up all future rights to sue for alliance. They’d be hard pressed to survive on what remained of their lands, so we thought that they’d have every reason to agree, and the stock and supplies we’d cede to them would be no hardship if they bought the end of Urghul’s attentions. So my grandmother, mother, and two uncles made it their business to find the pub where Urghul would negotiate for trade, and went there at the appointed time.”

Yanna paused, perhaps gathering herself. I was all eyes and ears, barely breathing as I waited to hear what the maid would say. Fíli was no less alert.

“My grandmother and uncles agree that Tobazel and Ankulaz were well drunk when the offers began. Both buyer and seller typically disparage the first several offers and counter offers, because that’s the nature of haggling, but... Tobazel was so insulting that several bidders abandoned the effort entirely. No range was worth his abuse, especially one so far north where anyone who traded for it might well risk the same losses that had decimated Urghul. A pair of others cried insult that would need duels to resolve unless cooler heads prevailed. Clan Kahgli stayed above that, no matter how foul Tobazel got, and so did Clan Dashk. But given the poor nature of the range, and our willingness to offer Urghul more than their range was worth, Dashk dropped out, and so Kahgli acquired the range. My mother took possession of the grant, but Tobazel and Ankulaz were so far in their cups that she, my grandmother, and uncles thought it better to wait until morn to offer the grant back to them in return for an end to their offers of alliance.

“But that never happened. By the next morn, my mother was dead.”

“Valar,” Fíli breathed. “And no one knows what happened?”

“The brutal winter, the result of the spring sales, Clan Urghul’s offer of trade, and the negotiation for the grant – those are things I are sure of. I am sure of Maamr’s fitness – she was in good health, and in close accord with my grandmother and the rest of our clan elders. She was a wise and canny leader, a good teacher, and a good mother to me. Her integrity was without blemish. But what passed after the negotiation... I am less sure, as I was not there. But what happened was no good.

“Urghul was furious at the bargain they felt they were forced to make, so my folk didn’t linger. They retreated to an inn some distance away for supper, and to stay overnight so they didn’t have to make the long journey back to our tents, only to return the following morn to make their offer to Urghul once Tobazel was sober. We hadn’t thought we’d been followed to the inn, but perhaps that wasn’t so. After supper, Maamr and Uncle Mulgrum were attacked behind the inn as they returned from the necessary. He was badly hurt, but he says that Maamr wasn’t, that she was seeing to his wounds when someone came out of the shadows to slip a blade between her ribs. In the few moments before someone came from the inn and found them, she bled to death, he nearly did, and the grant disappeared. Of course, Tobazel and Ankulaz were nowhere to be found, nor was the grant.

“The next morn, Dashk brought the grant to the clan elders. It’d been thrown into their camp overnight; they claimed neither sight nor sound of who did so, and given that their integrity has never been found lacking, I believe them. How it came to them is not the only mystery – the grant had been altered before it was thrown into Dashk’s hands, altered to split the Urghul lands between Kahgli and Dashk. A rumor ran rampant that my mother, who had been seen to take possession of the grant, had conspired with Clan Dashk before the negotiation began – if Dashk dropped out of the trade for the range early, the price would remain low for Kahgli to buy. In return, Kahgli would split the grant with Dashk. Another rumor clamed that Tobazel and Ankulaz had been the ones who attacked Maamr to reclaim the grant, but she’d already delivered the grant to Dashk for them to alter, so they failed.”

“How could anyone believe such a thin tale?” Fíli asked, echoing my identical thought.

“No one did. Ankulaz and Tobazel had been so infuriated after their poor bargain that they’d picked fights at the pub and been thrown out. They’d been too drunk to say with any certainty where they’d been or what they’d done after that. They denied attacking my kin, but no one came forward to witness where they’d been; many people spoke to where everyone else in the negotiation had been. Dashk was as outraged as Kahgli about the altered grant, and had presented it to the elders in protest, and we joined them to emphatically deny any conspiracy. The clan elders deemed that while there was no proof of Urghul’s hand in Maamr’s death, Tobazel and Ankulaz had insulted and threatened both our clans, and couldn’t account for their whereabouts after the bargain was struck. The elders thought it just to offer Kahgli and Dashk each half of the grant in recompense, but we both refused to profit from such foul means. The original grant went to auction, and a third clan took possession; I never asked what the price was, but it wasn’t much. So Urghul lost their lands, received a paltry trade for it, and promptly blamed both Kahgli and Dashk for their loss, Kahgli bearing the larger part. Kahgli, of course blamed Urghul for Maamr’s death and Uncle’s near death, and both Kahgli and Dashk blamed Urghul for sullying our names. No one but Urghul suffered any lasting harm, but the attacks on our integrity still rankle, which is why no one speaks of it.”

“No wonder Derfrulia didn’t want to foster anyone from Clan Urghul,” Fíli agreed.

“Forcing us to follow the tradition when it has no chance to succeed in alliance only turns Kahgli even more firmly against Urghul,” Yanna replied. “At the same time, Urghul will say our concession grants them legitimacy, which will make them even more insistent. Tempers are calm now, but the longer Urghul is here, the more chance there is that tempers will flare.”

Now that the tale was out, I leaned forward. “Did either of Ankulaz’s seconds have any part in what happened?”

Yanna started, as if she’d forgotten my presence as completely as I’d wanted her to. She sat up straighter, but considered my question thoughtfully.

“Neither were at the inn,” she said slowly. “Kazunki’s a few years older than Ankulaz; Naggrundaz is a few years younger, so neither was old enough to take part in such a negotiation, even as a retainer. The only reason Ankulaz was there was because he was Urghul’s heir. Maamr was Derfrulia’s heir then, not me, and I was far from my majority, so I wasn’t old enough to take part, either.”

“Naggrundaz,” I repeated. “That’s a perilous name for anyone. Why would anyone name their son something so dire?”

“I wondered the same thing when Derfrulia told me his name,” Yanna said grimly. “I knew Kazunki’s name, but Naggrundaz, I’d only seen before. He smiles readily enough.”

I held my tongue, but Fíli glanced at me before he turned back to Yanna. “Kíli says he doesn’t trust him. My brother’s a good judge of a Dwarf, so take that for what it’s worth.”

The maid hummed agreement as she considered me. “I know the nature of wolves, two-legged as well as four-legged, Kíli. I’ve no doubt that you know the two-legged ones just as well as I do.”

I offered her my folded hands at my chest, grateful for the acknowledgement.

“I’ve kept you from your rest long enough,” the maid said, and just as she did, I had to smother a yawn. “I thank you for listening, and I ask your forgiveness again for putting you in the sights of such devious Dwarves. Know that I’ll take every chance to deflect their gaze from you.”

Fíli and I both chuckled, but both were rueful sounds, and in a few short words my brother related what I’d said to Grun this afternoon, and how neither of us thought I’d swayed him from whatever opinion he held. “Maybe the less you say about us, the better. Any mention keeps us in their minds. Disinterest might be a better tack. We’re just the hired help, nothing more.”

“A valid point,” Yanna conceded. “I’ll do that. But... I thank you for the honesty and friendship you’ve shown me despite my rash words to Urghul.”

“Of course,” Fíli gave her the warm smile that pleased the maids so well back in Thorin’s Hills. Yanna didn’t have to know that my smile was as much a smirk at Fíli as it was appreciation to her.

The maid stretched out a hand to give Rinnala, Alabrin, and Mhornar each a caress, which the dogs received with sleepy sighs. “Sleep well, my friends.”

The maid slipped away to her blankets near the back of the tent. I asked Alabrin to resume his regular spot, which he did with a reproachful whuff. I stripped off trews and smalls, gave Fíli a sketchy wave goodnight, and pulled my blanket close. I was asleep before the soft folds settled over me.

 

* * *

 

I wasted no time plunging after Kíli into sleep. I lay like a stone at the bottom of a deep river pool where nothing and no one would disturb it for a thousand years, not stirring until a cold nose poked me in the back, a hand shook my leg, and a soft but insistent voice penetrated my ears. I got my eyes open to find that I’d sat up, though I don’t remember doing so. Three faces greeted my gaze – Rinnala, who had provided the cold nose, Kíli, the shaking hand, and Cyth, the insistent voice.

“Ulphflt,” I mouthed, without a lick of intelligence. Kíli didn’t laugh, but gave me a doleful look of commiseration.

“Aye, it’s morn earlier than you’d wish,” Cyth patted my other leg briskly. “Go get your breakfast, or you’ll have to go without during a long day. We hope to reach the rest of the clan before sundown, so stir your legs, lads.”

The old dam moved away, so I swallowed a sleepy groan. Kíli was already dressed in smalls and trews. He pulled his tunic on over his head, gave a perfunctory swipe of his dogs’ brush through his hair, then sat in the middle of his sleeping pad with his blanket in his lap. He looked disoriented and rumpled. I likely looked no better.

“ _Shataz vogal_ ,” Kíli muttered under his breath, and rubbed his eyes again.

“Little pest?” I translated as I pulled my tunic over my head. “You didn’t call Cyth that, did you?”

“Course not,” Kíli gave me an affronted look. “She’s a gem. This early morn isn’t, though. I ache all over.”

I hummed in agreement. “Last night’s tale was worth it.”

Kíli’s hum was noncommittal. “It was a good tale, yes. But I still ache all over.”

I winced. Kíli’s growing pains again. “Better get up and stretch a bit before we pack up, then. Come on. Necessary first, then the dogs’ breakfasts, then ours.”

Kíli took the arm I extended to pull him to his feet, swallowing a groan as he rose. His dogs watched him with solemn faces, but he mustered a faint smile for them as we pulled on our boots and fumbled out of the tent.

The morn air was brisk and cool, but dry; the rain had ended sometime after we’d fallen asleep, leaving the ground moist but not sodden. Rinnala and Alabrin led the way, trotting ahead of us with more spring in their steps than I felt, and Kíli didn’t know whether to laugh or growl at them. Mhornar stayed by my brother’s side, looking up at him with a wrinkled brow.

“Such a sad face.” Kíli offered her a reassuring smile and a caress of her ears. “Don’t trouble yourself, pretty Mhornar. I’m achy, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

Mhornar’s expression was plainly skeptical. She reminded me so much of Maamr that I laughed, but I wasn’t alone. Kíli laughed, too, and stooped beside Mhornar to hug her and ruffle her fur with a playful hand. That seemed to restore her confidence in my brother’s hardiness, and she gave him a satisfied whuff before she trotted ahead to join Rinnala and Alabrin.

Necessities tended to, we took a couple of turns around the tents to help Kíli’s legs ease, then saw to the dogs’ breakfasts. Only then did we venture to the central fire for bowls of porridge, flatbread, and slabs of meat left over from last night’s supper. Hot tea was welcome, too – I actually looked forward to the knot of butter that softened the bitter brew. Kíli ate a truly prodigious amount, but he looked better for it, and soon his usual happy smile emerged.

“I thought of a flaw in your plan,” I nudged him, when I spotted the three Urghul Dwarves approaching the fire.

Kíli took another handful of bread and one last rib of antelope to ease our casual retreat from the fire. Several hunters were out past the tents, sitting with their dogs to keep them calm after their breakfast, so I steered us that way. Kíli tore off a mouthful of meat, stuffed half a chunk of bread in after, and chewed thoughtfully.

“What flaw’s that?” he mouthed around his food.

“Your plan to be an eerily fucking menace,” I teased. “Spirits don’t eat much.”

“This one does,” Kíli mumbled, swallowing. “And he’s not about to stop.”

“Wasn’t there something Master Balin told us about mountain ghosts who are always hungry?”

“Fuck that,” Kíli said without concern, stuffing his mouth full again. “Better I eat everything I can get my hands on. You do want me to be a strong eerily fucking menace, yes?”

I grinned as we plopped down onto the grass and gathered our dogs close. “I do. Better I stay strong, too. What about a bite of your antelope?”

Kíli held his chewed rib out of my reach. “Go get your own, doh kro. This one’s mine.”

“Maybe I will. Let Rinnala stay with you, and I’ll get one.”

Before I could get up, Kíli held the rib out to me. My eyebrows went up, but his eyes were on something behind me.

“Urghul?”

Kíli leaned over to tug Rinnala’s ear playfully. “You’re not ready to get up yet, are you, fancy princess? How could Fíli think to make you stir before you’re ready?”

My dog licked Kíli’s hand and gave me a grin, happy to be part of my brother’s conspiracy to keep me out of Urghul’s path. I took a token bite from Kíli’s offering before handing it back. Kíli finished it off with relish, wolfed down the rest of his bread, and gladly joined me in the genial morn banter with the other hunters while we waited for our dogs to settle their meal. All too soon, the cry went up to strike the tents, so we sent our dogs out with their mates while we wrestled with canvas and rope. Thank the Valar that we’d done this a few times already, because both my brother and I paid more attention to where the three Urghuls were than anything else. The chatter back and forth was mostly pull the canvas this way or take the near rope off that way, so even when one of us ended up beside Kazunki or Ankulaz or Grun, it wasn’t fraught with wariness. Maybe matters eased a bit, because Kazunki offered Kíli a ready hand up when my brother tripped over a rope, and I tossed Ankulaz the tie rope he needed to help fasten the bundle of canvas into its bale.

We’d gotten the first tent down when Drekkani and Arkhanneh called Kíli and me to help collect the pack ponies. They wanted us to work at every chore possible before we rejoined the main herd, because even more new tasks awaited us when that happened. The more they could stuff into our brains now, the better. Of course, being on ponyback was no trial for either of us, so off we went with willing grins rather than reluctant complaints.

Collecting the pack ponies wasn’t much of a chore today. They’d been set out last night with hobbles and Dwarves to watch over them, so most had remained close to the tents; all we had to do was ride around a bit with our dogs to help us collect a string of ponies, and ride back with the ponies in tow. Our lessons with Barkhuzi had progressed enough that both my brother and I took a string of lead ropes, hopped barebacked onto the nearest pony, and headed out without fuss. Arkhanneh demonstrated what we needed to do – she rode alongside one of the ponies, leaned over to snare its halter, snapped on the lead rope, and let it trail behind while she went after the next one. Her dog and one of the unattached ones made sure that the pony didn’t peel away before Arkhanneh could snare it. Kíli and I followed suit, and soon had six apiece. We slid down to take off the hobbles, then rode back to the rapidly diminishing camp to turn over our strings to the packing folk. I spotted Ankulaz’s two seconds among the packers; the heir himself was out with us collecting ponies. He went about his business easily enough, so I went back to collect a second string with Kíli just behind me.

Ponies collected, we went to work to load the baggage. When everything was packed, we collected our rations for the day – more than yesterday’s, a sure sign that Derfrulia intended to press on until we reached the rest of the clan. All that remained was to saddle our mounts, and take our place as outliers. Derfrulia made her bare announcement to head for the herds, down came the mast, and off we went again.

Derfrulia set a fast pace, another sign of how eager she was to unite Clan Kahgli and set about the year’s business. The mood was jovial, expectant, and happy. Every now and again one or another of the Dwarves would break out in song, and folk would join in as they chose. Some of the verses were so filthy that Kíli had all he could do to stay on his pony for laughing so hard. I didn’t laugh much less, but I did cast a casual eye now and again towards the Urghuls, just to gauge their reactions to it all. Kazunki wore the same more or less impassive face he’d shown so far. Grun had that half faint smile that he always wore, which could have meant anything from amusement to enjoyment to derision. I didn’t like such a slippery expression, but made no comment about it. Neither Kíli nor Kahgli needed my observation to mistrust Grun.

The interesting one was Ankulaz. After the ill will Tobazel had sowed in those around him, I thought he was wise to lie low until the rancor over his sire’s bad manners had faded a little. But he observed the folk around him, and seemed thoughtful rather than contemptuous, angry, or haughty. Maybe he was in the same position that Kíli and I were – this was his first time away from his clan. Given how domineering his sire was and how marginal Urghul’s holdings were, maybe he had no more idea about how life flowed in Clan Kahgli than we did. I’d hazard that life here progressed with far less rancor than what he was used to, which would be a gift to anyone.

There was no hunt for supper today, so the morn progressed swiftly. As we continued east and a bit north, the steppes ahead of us slowly filled with antelope until they stretched across the land from horizon to horizon. Above them swooped great flocks of birds – small, large, and everything in between. They seemed never to fall still, but made a constant stir of landing, taking off, and circling. The ebb and flow was many times busier than any Dwarvish market I’d ever seen, but as vast as the steppe was, the motion seemed almost subdued.

“There are thousands of them,” Kíli marveled, as a sweep of grey cranes backwinged and alit among the grasses. “I’ve never seen so many before. Look, aren’t those the same black water geese that we see on the Lhûn River every winter?”

“You’re right. They must migrate up to the ice bay during the summer?”

“Maybe so. Look how many of them there are! The small ones are too far away to know what they are, but there are even more of those. Maybe millions?”

“Maybe so. More than we can count, anyway. I wonder when we’ll see any of Kahgli’s ponies?”

Kíli shaded his eyes. “I thought I saw one or two, but with the heat shimmer and the dips in the land, it might’ve just been wishful thinking. Arkhanneh said they drive most of the ponies west of us, where the forage is better.”

“Drekkani told me the same thing. I want to see them as much as you do, but I expect in just a few weeks we’ll see so many that it’ll be no different than seeing chickens in Maamr’s coop.”

Kíli rolled his eyes. “Ponies are much more exciting than chickens. You can’t ride the chickens.”

“You can’t eat the ponies, either.”

“You can, too,” Kíli snorted, but looked around sheepishly to see if he’d been overheard. “Um, not that you’d want to, of course, but you could, if you were hungry enough.”

“True,” I agreed. “You could eat the goats, too.”

“Yah,” Kíli nodded. “But those aren’t all that good to eat, other than the very young kids culled each spring, so Arkhanneh said. Too tough, maybe because of the thorns and brush they’re so fond of. To hear Barkhuzi tell it, they’re a bad thing gone good.”

“Oh, because of the wool?”

Kíli shook his head. “A long while ago, he said, the herders wanted to add a meat animal to their stock, but sheep ate the same things that ponies did, and they’re stupid. Always getting tangled in the steam thickets, and too hard to keep safe. Meat goats pulled up the grass by its roots and ruined the ground. But wool goats don’t eat the grass, so they don’t tear up the ground, and they don’t take the ponies’ food. And they’re a lot more sensible about the stream thickets. And they have amazing curly horns that they aren’t afraid to use. So it came out all right.”

“Does the Clan shear the goats the way you shear a sheep? Or do you just comb the coats out, like you would our dogs?”

“I didn’t ask about that,” Kili admitted. “Look, there’s Klyn – I’m sure he knows.”

The clan had called a brief halt to tend to necessities, and we walked a bit afterwards to let the ponies rest. Most folk pulled out their rations to take advantage of the moment, so we angled over to join Klyn to ask about the goats. He was a treasure trove of information – you combed to get the softest, lightest, warmest undercoat without the heavy guard hairs to make clothing and the best blankets, and you sheared to get the coarser guard hairs mixed with the undercoat to make tougher things. But the goats had given Clan Kahgli more than wool – it had also helped the clan care for its folk who couldn’t or no longer wanted to continue their rigorous life on the steppe. A small settlement at the edge of the Blue Mountains farther north had sprung up to turn the wool from piles of raw threads into yarn, and that into warm clothing, saddle pads, blankets, rugs, and more. Goods from Kahgli weavers were sought after, which further enriched the clan’s coffers. Despite the good price such wares brought, Kahgli was meticulous about not breeding too many of the wool goats, so that they didn’t overstress the steppe.

After we ate, Barkhuzi and Klyn put us through our riding maneuvers, which was great fun. After a brisk hour of racing around, we walked our ponies abreast to let them recover their wind, and our two friends entertained us with an enthusiastic description a few of the mad steppe games that we might see before too long. Kíli’s laugh faded as he looked thoughtfully across the steppe.

“What is it, Kíl?” Klyn asked curiously as Kíli stood up in his stirrups to get a better look at something.

“You tell me,” my brother asked, pointing out across the undulating land. I strained my eyes, but only a subtle shift of grey and brown seemed to ripple atop one of the rises before disappearing over the other side. “Is that...?”

Barkhuzi squinted at the ripple, and grinned at Kíli. “You’ve got good eyes, Kíli. Yes, that was a wolf.”

“Will someone go out to shoot it?” Kíli asked.

Barkhuzi shook his head. “Too far away, and more importantly, it’s not after any of our animals. We don’t kill every wolf we see, you know.”

“You don’t?” I asked.

“Course not,” Barkhuzi assured me. “You think you’ve seen how many antelope share the steppe with us, yes? Believe me, there are many thousands more out here than you’ve seen! What do you think would happen if there weren’t any wolves to keep so many of them in check? They’d overgraze the grass, nothing would grow, and our stock would go hungry, which means we’d go hungry. So the wolves are our allies against the antelope. We try to encourage them to eat the antelope instead of our stock.”

Hmm... so the wolves were essential out here, even if they went after the ponies and goats. Even the hordes of rabbits in the thickets near the water had their uses, mostly to distract smaller predators such as foxes and raptors from pestering foals and kids when they were first born. No wonder the clan used every part of an antelope carcass, discarding very little. That was life on the steppe in a nutshell – everything had a purpose, and nothing went to waste.

I interrupted my musings when Merruli whistled to Barkhuzi, pointing forward. Our friend gave us an excited smile as he gathered up his reins.

“We’re close,” he told us eagerly. “Taad and I will ride ahead to get our bearings, and let the rest of the clan know we’ll be along in good order. So prepare yourself for a lot of work to get the camp up, then a lot of food to ease the effort. And I hope you won’t be too tired to play your fiddles, lads – everyone will want to sing tonight!”

The red-haired Dwarf sprinted after his father with an ululating whoop, leaving Kíli and me to exchange anticipatory chuckles. Beside us, Klyn rubbed his hands and hummed.

“There will be soooooo much food tonight,” he said with complete reverence. “Rations might get short sometimes in the winter, but never in spring. Even you won’t be able to eat it all, Kíli.”

My brother giggled. “Maybe not. But I’m still going to try.”

Klyn giggled back. “Me, too!”

I thought about all the new dishes we might get to try before the day was done, and my mouth watered. Kíli and Klyn wouldn’t be the only Dwarves trying to eat themselves silly – I’d be right beside them.

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli and Kíli get their first glimpse of Clan Kahgli at strength. While a certain lost horse race gives one clan something to anticipate, it might well give another clan pause.

_“They’re hard workers, both of them.”_

_“They’re toadies and boot lickers, both of them. No shame, either of them, but especially the heir. Makes you wonder what else they’re willing to do for the price.”_

_“There’s no shame in working when you have little. Mahal, we know that.”_

_“The heir’s got rank to think of. He’s fucking second in line to the kingdom of Erebor, isn’t he? Yet he’s out here cleaning shit out of antelope goats like a slave.”_

_“His uncle is known as a wise ruler, even out here. It’d be like him to send his heirs out to learn about more folk beyond those who live in his mountain town.”_

_“I’ve heard rumors.”_

_“Rumors of what?”_

_“Rumors of who sired Thorin Oakenshield’s heirs. They’re his sister’s get. She’s never taken a husband like a proper dam, has she? Maybe because her brother, the wise ruler, decided to get her with heirs on his own, so as not to share power. So his heirs are inbred. No wonder he doesn’t want them near him.”_

_“Clan Durin doesn’t honor only the sires as we do, or the dams as Kahgli does. The line can pass through either one.”_

_“Then why are they out here, if they’re such precious heirs to the clan that rules us all whether or not we like it? The only reason that makes sense is because they seek alliance with a rich clan to make up for the lack of their own. Why else would they be so... accommodating? They crave Kahgli’s regard because they think it’ll gain them Kahgli’s heir. Plain and simple.”_

_“Neither of them is old enough to seek alliance. The dark one can’t have reached twenty yet.”_

_“He’s hell with a bow, though, and his brother’s no worse with a blade – wonder why? Trained as assassins, maybe? You’d be wise to sleep with a knife by your side. Let them smile and be ‘helpful’ without any help from us.”_

_“They’ve no feud with us, for all the old boulder tried to make one. They went out of their way to avoid a duel.”_

_“They want Kahgli’s heir, don’t they? That’s feud enough, because she’s promised to Urghul, not Durin. They’re afraid of us, that’s why they backed down from Tobazel. And they won’t show their intent honestly, now, either, because they’re afraid. You watch – they’ll be after her in the slyest of ways before long, and they’ll claim innocence at every turn. Trying to take what’s ours.”_

_That met with no reply._

 

* * *

 

Klyn and I sent Barkhuzi off with more laughing anticipation than was seemly, but I was too excited to care. I snuck a look at Fíli, but he wasn’t laughing much less than we were, so I had nothing to apologize about. In fact, Fíli looked just as entranced as I did when Klyn launched into a recital of the dishes we might see tonight. Unsurprisingly, meat was the ingredient in most everything, followed by milk – that was the steppe’s greatest bounty. Thorin’s Halls was a settled town, so Maamr put in a garden every spring to provide us potatoes and greens, and we traded for wheat, oats, and corn to make our bread and porridge. In contrast, Kahgli followed its herds, so had no garden, though it was prosperous enough to trade for wheat and oats. I wasn’t like some Dwarves who turned up his nose at anything leafy or green, mostly because I was always hungry enough to eat anything that anyone so much as waved under my nose. But a diet that didn’t have a lot of green in it got no complaint from me. I had a fine time listening to Klyn elaborate on every exquisite detail of antelope cuisine.

Because we were so close to the main part of the clan, no one fussed at the outliers much about paying strict attention to what was around us, but I tried to keep a reasonable eye on things. This was all new to me, and better I learn as many nuances now when it didn’t matter, so that I knew them when it did. If I were out on the featureless grass on my own, which I expected to be soon enough, it would be so easy to get lost.

“But it’s not featureless, Kíl,” Klyn protested. “There are so many clues to help you figure out where you are! You can’t tell me that Arkhanneh or Drekkani hasn’t drilled that into your heads by now!”

Fíli laughed ruefully. “Oh, they’ve right stuffed us. But there’s so much to learn... sometimes it’s hard to know which thing is the most important.”

Klyn’s expression was incredulous, but in a second or two it faded into understanding. “Aye, I suppose I’d say the same thing if I had to make my way in Thorin’s Halls, right enough. Just to have to sleep in a building...” he gave a slight shudder. “I think I’d have trouble catching my breath.”

“Yah, no dogs to help keep you warm, either,” I grinned. “In fact, the beds all have curtains on them to keep in the heat.”

Klyn gave us a startled look. “Mahal, I really would feel like I was about to smother.”

“The bed curtains are just like a very small tent,” Fíli offered in consolation.

“Too small for me!” Klyn shook his head. “But here, I’ll tell you what I think’s most important to help you know where you are on the grass. The first thing’s dirt easy – the rises.” He held his hand out, moving it up and down in imitation of how the land rose and fell. “They run more or less south-south-west to north-north-east, aye? They’re just one big compass arrow.”

“Aye,” Fíli nodded. “That’s clear.”

“So whether the sun or the stars are above you, you always know where you are. Sun rises in the east, sets in the west, and there you are. And on a clear day, you can see the faintest hint of the Blue Mountains in the west.”

The weather was fine today, and sure enough, to the west we could make out the slate-blue smudge of the northern end of the Blue Mountains.

“What if it’s cloudy?” Fíli persisted. “Then no sun, no stars, and no mountains.”

“That’s easy, too,” Klyn insisted. “The grasses are different on the western side of the rises than on the eastern sides, aren’t they? What, haven’t you noticed? Look there – the western sides get more moisture, so the grasses are lusher, taller, aren’t they? And look there – the toughest scrub is on the eastern sides. Even in the dark you can tell east from west, because the goats are always on the eastern sides of the rises, because that’s where their forage is.”

Klyn went on to tell us that the prevailing winds generally blew from the west. The Blue Mountains weren’t a terribly high mountain range, so while they kept a lot of the moisture from the Great Sea from traveling too far inland, they didn’t keep all of it, so in spring especially rain fell often. In fact, Klyn told us that in some years the grass seemed to be more prairie than steppe. But in other rare years, northeastern winds brought the remnants of Morgoth’s cold roaring down from the Ice Bay of Forochel, and everything withered and froze in the onslaught.

Maybe the winter had been so harsh when Yanna’s Maamr had died.

“And the stars make things even easier,” Klyn continued, blithely unaware of my more serious musings. “When we meet the rest of the clan, maybe we’ll have time for Barkhuzi to tell some of his tales about how the great figures came to be in the sky. The tales tell you everything you need to know. Barkhuzi’s a grand storyteller, just like his Taad, so you don’t forget a tale when they tell it. He can tell you how the Great Hunter met his dog, and how the eagle and the falcon dueled over the rabbit so fiercely in the heat of the summer that the rabbit had plenty of time to run away, and lots more.”

“That sounds like a lot better way to learn your lessons,” I grinned. “The storytelling isn’t always so interesting back in Thorin’s Halls.”

“Yah, Kíli mades a point of falling asleep every time we had to study the annals of Clan Durin,” Fíli teased, drawing Klyn’s laughter.

“No, I don’t!” I protested. “The battles and so forth are stellar. But the trade agreements with one group or another aren’t good for much of anything but naps.”

Klyn gave a laughing grimace. “Dry as dust, are they?”

“Worse,” I avowed. “And be fair, Fíl – you don’t think they’re any more interesting than I do.”

“I don’t,” Fíli agreed with a rueful grin. He smoothed his beard with one hand, as he was wont to do when he’d been caught being less than impassive about some of the duller things we as heirs had to endure. “But believe me, it’s hard to endure Master Balin’s glare when he catches us drifting asleep.”

“Master Balin’s all right. He knows we’re trying. The one we have to watch out for is Master Dwalin, Uncle’s general. He’s the arms master in Thorin’s Hall, and a fiercer warrior you haven’t met, and won’t...”

Fíli and I had Klyn laughing at things Master Dwalin had been known to do, but as we spoke with respect, so Klyn laughed in the same way. Master Dwalin was revered for his skills, fierceness, and strength, even out here, so all three of us gave the crusty warrior his proper due.

Once our food had settled a bit, Klyn had us out in front of the caravan to continue our riding lessons. Today, we practiced how to direct our ponies using only our legs. We’d find this useful when hunting, of course, but the trick was not just to direct the ponies – it was to sense what the pony would do along the way, such as get ready to jump, or veer one way or the other. It wasn’t as easy as Klyn made it look, but we were eager students, and would improve before long.

As we turned back to rejoin the caravan, I searched for the three Clan Urghul Dwarves. I was relieved to see that all them were with their mentors. What lessons did they take? Surely they already knew all the things that Klyn had just explained, even everything that Arkhanneh and Drekkani had told us. What didn’t they know?

A quick puzzle gave me the answer. Tobazel was no better than the bullies who’d hounded me, was he? I didn’t believe anything that Grun had insinuated about Ankulaz, but what if the heir behaved like his father? What if he didn’t? In either case, maybe the heir of Clan Urghul had no idea how a justly governed clan conducted itself, or how to behave like civilized folk. Oh, I was on the right track, I was – the Urghul mentors were all older sires, well into their majority, and weighty with experience. Urghul would have to respect, and heed, such elders. That was likely the only folk who could convince Urghul to cooperate, to mesh with less tyrannical ways.

That assumed, of course, that the longstanding feud between Kahgli and Urghul didn’t give Urghul reason to dismiss everything that they heard right out of hand. But there was only three of them and uncounted numbers of Kahgli, so wouldn’t they go along or face the banishment Derfrulia had threatened?

Maybe they’d decide Clan Durin was an easier target.

Before the day was out, we’d join the main part of Clan Kahgli. Shortly after that, Fíli and I would start our lives on the grass in earnest. Ponies and goats would drop their young, wolves would try to exploit the easy prey to feed their young, and my brother and I would do our utmost to keep prey and predator apart.

Keeping Kahgli, Durin, and Urghul apart might be harder.

 

* * *

 

Kíli and I had a grand afternoon with Klyn. The young Dwarf was still not as boisterous as so many of his mates were, but as he got to know Kíli and me, his shyness faded, and he was generous with all the lore he knew so much better than we did. His plain, spare words about the land, the winds, the herbage, and the animals made so much sense, and I already felt more comfortable to make my way here. The telling point that his words brought home to me was just how much of this way of life depended on paying attention to my senses. As he went on about the rough scrub that the wool goats ate, he must’ve used a dozen variations of green – this kind of green in the spring when the leaf buds first swelled, and that kind when they were a day from bursting forth, and another kind when rains were due, and yet another one when the rains had fallen and the scrub was fat with water. Blue sky had no part of his vocabulary, either – merely to call the sky blue wasn’t nearly descriptive enough. There was blue in the morn near the eastern horizon, which was different from the blue at the western horizon, as well as from the blue at the zenith and the blues that peeked behind various kinds of clouds. And those were only some of the blues for a single moment in a single day in a single season! This was much more complex than all the ins and outs of Master Balin’s long recitations of lineages, and infinitely more interesting and critical. Kíli would certainly sort all of this out faster than I would, because he was already more attuned to his surroundings than I was, but the best way for both of us to progress was to keep our eyes, ears, noses, and fingers at the ready for whatever new impression came to us.

In midafternoon, Kíli shaded his eyes and squinted towards the northwest.

“Is that a rider?” he asked, pointing. He and I stood up in our stirrups, but Klyn did us one better, boosting himself up to stand on his pony’s saddle with easy grace.

“Barkhuzi!” he shouted, pointing so the rest of the clan could look for themselves. “He’s reached the main camp and comes to guide us in!”

That sent up a glad stir. In anticipation, the caravan turned slightly more northward and increased its pace. In perhaps a quarter hour, Barkhuzi galloped up to Derfrulia, Merruli, Yanna, and the other elders to report. The resulting glad claps and whoops were message enough, but Barkhuzi rode around the caravan to further pass the news – the main camp was just a couple of hours away. As one, the caravan sped up to a trot, as fast as the most heavily laden pack ponies could safely go. Barkhuzi fell back long enough to exchange his pony for a fresher one, so Klyn peeled off the line of outliers to stand watch over him while he did so, then raced forward with his friend to resume their places.

Had Merruli remained to explain the delicate situation with Clan Urghul to the rest of the clan? And how had Clan Durin figured into the mix? I hoped not at all, but that was likely a wasted hope.

Despite our fast pace, the next two hours seemed to crawl. Kíli was nearly beside himself and bombarded me with questions – how many Dwarves did I think awaited us, and would we have six or seven different antelope dishes, and how many more wolf hounds would the clan have, and did they get on with the herder dogs.

“I’ve no more idea than you, doh kro!” I must’ve said a dozen times, but my little brother hardly listened to my protests. I didn’t mind. It was good to see him so excited, so happy, so eager, a far cry from the broken lad he’d been just three months ago.

Finally, finally a shout went up – the Clan Kahgli mast was ahead of us! As the cry went up, my brother got the bright idea to climb atop his saddle the way Klyn had, but he hadn’t the balance of it yet, and wobbled mightily as he tried to stay upright. But he spotted the mast as the most agile Kahgli lads did, and fumbled back onto his saddle with a proud grin of accomplishment.

“Almost landed on your head, didn’t you?” I teased, but Kíli’s spirits remained high.

“Almost landing on my head isn’t the same as landing on my head, is it?” he laughed back.

“Good thing,” I shot back. “Just the impression you don’t want to make, is it, to be hauled into camp over the front of my saddle because you put a dent in that hard skull of yours?”

“I’m not going to make a bad impression, Fíli, no matter how excited I am, will I? I’ll help unpack the tents and put them up and haul the other baggage just like I’m supposed to, won’t I? And so will you!”

“Fucking right,” I nodded firmly. “No one’s going to find us shirking anything. And we’ll stay clear of Urghul, too.”

“ _Dahaut_ , yah,” Kíli sobered long enough to eye the three Urghuls on the right side of the caravan. “You watch ahead of us, brother, and I’ll watch behind, and we’ll be all right.”

He held out his arm to me, and I bumped it with mine, our old ritual after a fight, though this time we did it without regard to a fight past or future. We did it to set ourselves on the right path.

As soon as the caravan was one ridge away from the camp, most of the outliers raced ahead, shouting and ululating for all they were worth. Several riders and wolfhounds from the camp rode out to meet us, and our flight of dogs raced forward to join them. Rinnala, Alabrin, and Mhornar flew out to run a bit with their mates, but soon pranced back to cavort around us, their jaws gaping wide in delighted grins. Their glee was infectious, so Kíli and I needed no encouragement to race after Klyn and Barkhuzi to crest the rise and then sail over it.

Such a view awaited us! If Kíli and I thought an encampment of four tents was impressive, then there were no words for the ten that met our eyes. None were as large as Derfrulia’s family tent, but they made an impressive collection. They all were clustered on the eastern face of the rise, and it took but a moment to understand why. Klyn had told us that most of the weather came from the west, so the eastern side offered more shelter from the worst of the winds, rain, and snow. Unlike our first camp west of here, the mast wasn’t in the middle of the tents, but high on the ridge to offer the best chance to guide clan members home. The other interesting point was how the tents seemed to be tucked into the side of the rise – dug in on one side, I guessed, to offer a level floor on a slanted bit of ground. I pointed that out to Kíli, and he nodded eagerly.

“What do we do now?” he asked, as we crossed the last dip between rises and started up the long, gradual slope to the tents. “See to the pack ponies, do you think?”

“Aye, sounds reasonable,” I agreed. “Come on, back to the line.”

We veered back to the caravan, where ready hands were already grabbing halters to hasten the ponies up the rise. Kíli and I each snared one to lead up to where more folk unloaded the sturdy beasts. We turned over our charges, then dismounted to collect our things. I held our ponies while Kíli ran to retrieve our packs and fiddles from the piles of goods. He came back laden with everything plus a couple of pony brushes. Once we had everything out of the fray, we moved to the side of the camp to unsaddle our mounts. Our three dogs sat nearby to oversee our efforts, making Kíli laugh as he brushed and groomed.

“You’ll have your turn soon enough, won’t you?” Kíli called to them, drawing Alabrin to dance close, trying to do his trick of pushing Kíli over. My brother sidestepped neatly, then dove after his dog, laughing as he scrubbed Alabrin’s sides in a playful caress. But he didn’t play for long, coming back to finish his efforts on his pony’s coat and hooves to make sure it was comfortable before we turned them over to the pony master. We both got a smile and a wave for our care, so we waved back before we shouldered our packs.

“What next?” I asked Kíli as he gathered up his fiddle and his bow rig. “Put up the tents?”

“That’s what we’ve done on the way here, so I’d say yes,” my brother shrugged. “Where do you think they’d put the big family one?”

I pointed. “There, it seems. Oh, of course, Kíl. See the niche cut into the side of the rise?”

Kíli nodded, so off we went to help. Cyth was already there, overseeing the efforts, so we put our things with her growing collection of tent accouterments, and jumped in wherever we were needed to get the canvas up. Interesting – the tent was not as round tonight. It looked more like a squashed pumpkin, wider from side to side than from front to back, to better fit into its niche in the side of the rise. A pair of older Dwarves and Cyth got the hearth set up while Kíli and I helped to lug innumerable bundles of bedding and other things inside. Cyth pointed us to our usual places on the right side, so we hauled our things inside and dumped them unceremoniously. Then it was on to the other tents. We had the best reasons to pitch in without hesitation – friends surrounded us to share the effort, and toothsome aromas wafted over and around us. There was a lot of good-natured calling back and forth, even to us, even from folk we hadn’t met yet. The banter didn’t sound like it was from strangers, for Kíli and I were called by name over and over again. Merruli and Barkhuzi had done more than find the clan mast before the latter came back to fetch us, that was clear. Both had gossiped plenty, because folk who’d just now laid eyes on us knew which of us favored the bow and which the blade. They teased Kíli about how tall and pale he was, but my brother took it with a smile, relieved that the jesting was friendly, and teased back with as good as he’d gotten. They teased me about my pale hair, and guessed how many blades I hid in my coat. There were several maids, but to see so many bairns on the hips of their tenders was a novelty. I counted at least ten in the time it took to raise the tents. Settled Dwarves were slow to make bairns, but that was not true on the grass. I thought it might be because folk shared much closer quarters out here than they did in Thorin’s Halls.

All the tents were up, the baggage was off the ponies if not yet entirely unpacked, and supper smelled as if it was well underway. I’d spotted riders coming in by ones and twos with antelope, so maybe that meat was for the dogs. If so, Kíli and I needed to ease our dogs out of the genial hubbub and get them to rest in time for their supper. I spotted Klyn not far from us, and waved at him. When I put the question to him, his eyes danced with mischief.

“They’ll have to wait a bit longer, Fíl,” he said mysteriously, looking around. “Barkhuzi! Yah, Khuzi! Tents are done!”

That met with a more enthusiastic yell than finishing a mundane chore seemed to merit, but he was off at a run, yelling several names as he went. Kíli noticed the stir, and looked quizzically at me, but I had to shrug in ignorance. Quickly Barkhuzi appeared with six or seven young Dwarves at his back.

“There! Didn’t I tell you?” he demanded, pointing at my brother. “Didn’t I tell you he was tall?”

“Mahal, you did, and he is!” was the consensus. “There’s not meat enough on his bones, though!”

“He’s tough, and strong, and light on the horse!” Klyn shot back. “He can do it!”

“Do what?” I demanded, sidling closer to Kíli’s side. My brother gulped, but he didn’t look as clueless as I felt. “Kíli, what’s this about?”

“I think it’s about –”

“Let’s see!” someone yelled, and with a chortle of agreement, Kíli was swept up into the arms of Barkhuzi and his mates and hauled past the tents. Oh, Valar, what were they about to do to him? I flung myself after them, snarling a protest.

“It’s all right, Fíli!” Klyn grabbed my arm as he ran beside me. “They don’t mean any harm. Barkhuzi will make sure nothing happens that shouldn’t.”

“What’re they going to do?” I demanded as I continued after the throng. “Tell me right now!”

But Klyn didn’t have to say a word. By the time I’d spat my demand, two Dwarves holding the halter of the biggest horse I’d ever seen met the pack hustling Kíli along. Oh, and oh, that’s what this was about – to see if the tall Dwarf hunter who’d just appeared could ride something other than a pony. I relaxed most of my worries for my brother, but not all of them. This horse was enormous, and he was none too calm with all the Dwarves milling around him.

“See? It’s nothing,” Klyn reassured me. If his words weren’t emphatic enough, Rinnala, Alabrin, and Mhornar should have been; all three trotted along with the other dogs, grinning as if they enjoyed a good joke. “That race last autumn still rankles more than you can imagine, so it’s no surprise that the lads would toss Kíli aback the biggest horse they could find to see if we have a chance to take back the prize this year. Yah, go, Kíli!”

My brother found himself boosted over the back of the shaggy monster, looking half scared, half elated. But the horse was wild, and all the noise didn’t make him any happier, so he bucked as soon as Kíli got astride. Kíli slid off before he was thrown, which met with a chorus of groans.

“Give me a moment, why don’t you?” Kíli’s plaintive voice went up, as someone grabbed the horse’s halter rope. “Just give me a moment with him, and I’ll do my best.”

Barkhuzi took the halter rope, and waved the others back. “He’s right, lads. Go on, move back, back! Let Lathga calm, and Kíli, too!”

That got a laugh, from me, too, when Kíli looked chagrined. But he took the halter rope gamely, and turned Lathga away from the noise to stroke his nose and pat his cheek. After a few words, the horse didn’t toss his head so much, though he still looked ready to kick out at the least thing. Sooner than he should have, Kíli had Barkhuzi attach a second rope to the other side of the halter. He got both in hand, then had Barkhuzi boost him over the horse’s back. As Barkhuzi scrambled out of the way, Lathga gathered himself, wheeled away from the encampment, and clattered straight up the rise with Alabrin and Mhornar in full pursuit. Oh, Valar, my brother clutched at the lead ropes and Lathga’s mane, desperately trying to stay aback before he was thrown on his head. I sprinted up the rise in time to see Kíli careen northward along the top of the rise, soon vanishing in the late afternoon sun. As the seconds passed without another sighting, Barkhuzi rubbed his chin, then pulled his mustaches in vexation.

“I’d better go find him, then,” was all he said.

“I’ll go with you,” I insisted, and the two of us turned around to find ponies so we could go retrieve my brother. But we’d gotten only halfway down the rise when shouts drew us back up to the top again.

There was Lathga, galloping back towards us, with a long, elegant wolfhound keeping pace on either side. Kíli was still astride – not comfortably, and not elegantly, but astride nevertheless. On his face was a mixture of terror and ecstasy, but his hands still held the ropes, not the mane, and his long, achy legs were snugged tightly around the horse’s barrel, just behind the shoulders. His hair had pulled out of its braid and steamed out behind him as if he had his own mane.

Valar. He actually looked like he knew what he was doing.

A murmur of excitement rippled through the clan, most of which was around me on the top of the rise, watching my brother speed towards us. Even Kazunki, Grun, and Ankulaz were in the throng to watch.

Lathga was a very large, very brown horse. A very _dark_ brown horse. With the sun behind him, he seemed even darker. And aback him was tall, dark-haired Kíli, looking more Maiar than Dwarf, flanked by not one but two magical wolfhounds.

Did Ankulaz finger the necklace of charms he wore around his neck?

I smiled. Maybe Kíli wasn’t a fucking menace yet, but he certainly was an eerie one.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kíli struggles with a very large horse. Fíli, however, discovers that he might face a bigger fight, and all because of a thirty-second conversation.

_Oi, dahaut, skator kurvanog_ , I had never seen such a fucking huge _daguli_ of a horse in my entire life, and here I was about to be thrown aback it like so much fucking grain! No, not it – he, and a full stallion he was, uncut, unschooled, and utterly terrifying. Oh, Mahal, his hooves were as big as Maamr’s roast platter, his deranged brown eyes glowed, his curly coat was as thick and wooly as a battle ram’s, and his teeth were fucking enormous, even before they snapped at me. He didn’t just look as big a mountain, either – he bucked like an earthquake! I slithered off that _dagul kurvanog_ before I thought twice.

The only thing that penetrated my shock was the groan of two-dozen Dwarves, all looking at me like I’d lost a fucking war for them, or worse.

Valar, this was _not_ the way to start off my stay with all of Clan Kahgli!

Even a huge fucking horse – no mere pony, but a full horse, and all of sixteen or seventeen hands at the shoulder – was an animal. I liked animals. They liked me. This one, however, did not like the stir around him. That I understood. I could at least try to settle the monster.

“Give me a moment, why don’t you?” I pleaded. “Just give me a moment with him, and I’ll do my best.”

Barkhuzi took the halter rope, and waved the others back. “He’s right, lads. Go on, move back! Get back! Let Lathga calm, and Kíli, too!”

Even Fíli laughed at that, which stiffened my spine. It’d be bad enough if I embarrassed myself in front of Kahgli, but worse if I let down my brother as I’d done too many times before. So I took the halter rope from Barkhuzi, and turned Lathga away from the worst of the noise.

“Sha, sha,” I whispered, just quiet nonsense sounds that caught Lathga’s attention. I stroked his nose, eased a piece of grass from under his halter, and let him smell me. He whickered, just like a pony, if bigger. That wasn’t so bad. How could I be afraid of him? If I calmed, maybe he would, too. Yes, there... he whuffed a bit more, and nosed my tunic, and that was something else I understood. He just wanted a bit of encouragement. Still, given the stir among so many eager Dwarves, I wouldn’t get all the time I’d like to settle Lathga. I looked past Lathga’s nose to Barkhuzi, still holding onto the halter.

“Put another lead rope on his halter, on the other side.”

“Quick as a bug,” Barkuzi agreed, beckoning to another Dwarf to hand him the second rope. On it went to Lathga’s halter.

I stroked Lathga’s nose as I gestured Barkhuzi to loop the second rope over the horse’s neck. There was no bit between Lathga’s teeth to help me, but at least the ropes would give me a bare means to guide him, assuming I could stay aback. I didn’t think about that. I sidled to Lathga’s left shoulder, and bent up my left leg before I thought better of it.

“Give me a boost, Khuzi.”

Barkhuzi had me up and over the horse before I could gasp. I scrambled to tuck my legs just behind Lathga’s shoulders, and draw up the ropes evenly in my hands, and managed both only just in time. Power bunched in Lathga’s hindquarters as he pulled his head from Barkhuzi’s hold and whirled on his back legs. Oh and oh, that meant he was about to bolt. I settled as deeply into my seat as I could, sure I was about to fall under those massive hooves. But no – we flew forward and up the rise before I could gasp, swear, or beseech the Valar. I’d have no chance to stay aback if Lathga plunged down the other side of the rise, so I yanked his head right. Blessedly, when he reached the top of the rise, he swerved right to stay along it rather than continue down the other side, and off we flew.

Amazingly, I stayed mounted. Lathga drove forward at a dizzying, all-out gallop, but after a few strides he fell into a smoother, slower canter, and the rocking motion was much easier for me to sit than his headlong rush. As my terror of falling receded, I found myself flying as fast as a falcon over the ground. It was ecstasy, pure ecstasy, and I couldn’t resist a whoop of glee. Valar, this was fine!

I had the presence of mind to look around me from this new height. The rises seemed to go on forever, vanishing into the sun glare on my left, and fading into the infinite horizon on my right and straight ahead. On either side of me, Alabrin and Mhornar raced, their faces as ecstatic as mine with the joy of pure speed. Even Lathga seemed to be entranced, for he ran without effort, as if for mere delight. But after a few moments, I tried drawing back on the ropes, for we were alone out here, never wise, and had to get ourselves back to the tents unscathed. Obediently, Lathga slowed, then stopped. As he heaved a big sigh, I took in the view – so much open emptiness! – before I urged him around to point back the way we’d come.

“Shall we walk back, Lathga?” I asked, venturing a quick pat on his neck. “A nice, easy walk to cool you after such a headlong rush, yes? Ohhhhhhh, _dahaut kurvanog_!”

Lathga returned to the tents the way he’d left, in full stride, at full speed, with high humor. I hung on, hoping to at least look respectably accomplished when we came into sight of the tents, but likely not – my hair slipped its braid as easily as Lathga had escaped Barkhuzi’s hand, flying on the ever-present wind into an eye-blinding tangle. I flung my head back, desperate to see as Lathga hurtled along – yes, there was the Kahgli mast. And look at how many Dwarves jumped up and down, all of them yelling! I grinned like a loon –

Oh, _dahaut_ , I had to stop this immense horse before Kahgli’s hue and cry sent him careening off again. I pulled back on the ropes, called to him, and kept my hands and legs steady. Thank the Valar, Lathga slowed, even dropped to a walk. I slid off with his lead ropes in my hands, and thanked him most sincerely for returning me to the grass without cracking my head in the doing. Just in time – a spate of Dwarves ran towards me, all of them yelling, and I had to keep tight hold of Lathga’s ropes as he tossed his head at the noise. Fortunately, Barkhuzi was one of the first Dwarves to reach me, and I was happy to release Lathga into his capable hands.

“Mahal, Kíli!” Klyn wormed his way to my side. He slapped my back furiously, and his eyes shone with delight. “You’re a natural! There aren’t many who can handle our stellar Lathga, not at all!”

“Now you tell me,” I laughed, staggering as more Dwarves stretched out hands to pound my back. “I’m glad I didn’t know that before I got on!”

Klyn laughed as if he thought that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “Course! Better to get you aback and away before you had time to worry, yes?”

That made sense only if you were young and reckless. Since I was, I had no counter to it.

Fíli shouldered through the throng to thwack me on the back. His face glowed with pride, which made me feel two feet taller than I was. I didn’t even complain when he gave me an affectionate cuff on the ear.

“Crazy doh kro,” he breathed, but his tone was admiring rather than reproving. “That’s the second time you tried to get a horse to bash your head in today.”

“Neither one did, did they?” I shot back, grinning. “You should’ve been there, Fíl – it was incredible!”

“It looked it,” Fíli nodded, giving me an intent look that belied his casual tone. “Fucking eerie.”

“Thank you, brother.” I held up my arm for him to bump so he’d share in my elation. We didn’t have time for more before the Dwarves swept us off with a right racket.

Now that the excitement of riding a true horse for the first time had worn off, I was ravenous. But I didn’t have to suffer my pangs for long. Supper was near ready, and it seemed that all of Clan Kahgli wanted me to have the first taste of it. For the first time in my life, I found myself in the middle of a throng eager to welcome me to the festivities. Someone thrust a meaty rib in my hand, and someone else offered me a bowl of arkhi, which I managed to dodge. Mhornar and Alabrin cavorted beside me as if they were the cause of all the fuss –

My dogs! Valar, how could I have forgotten? I had to feed Mhornar and Alabrin before I stuffed my face!

“Wait, wait!” I tried to call to the swirl. “I have to feed my dogs! My dogs!”

My urgency eventually lulled the din, as more and more of the Dwarves repeated to their mates that the tall Dwarf had to see to their prized wolfhounds. The stir went up again about the novelty of two dogs holding to one Dwarf, and to an outsider, at that, but my concern for Mhornar and Alabrin seemed to make a good impression, and I was allowed to draw my dogs aside to let them rest before they ate. I made much of my dogs for seeing me out and back over the steppe safely. As I sat quietly stroking them, several of the hunters came to sit with me, taking turns to spin a tale of their dogs and how wonderful they were. Sage advice filled their words, but the best part was how they told their tales, with as much polish and drama and laughter as I imagined any professional bard possessed. I had never seen such a bard, but Master Balin had said the Elves prized such folk. Maybe I’d hear one one day, not that I expected to. The only Elves I was ever likely to meet wouldn’t be singers or poets, just merchants looking to hire me as a caravan guard.

Where had Fíli gone? I missed sitting beside him, so I craned my neck and found him bringing Rinnala to join me. He plunked down beside me with a smile, which I returned gratefully. I was more used to staying quiet on the edges of such things.

Before long, Mhornar and Alabrin were cool and calm from their run. Fíli had waited for me before he fed Rinnala, so most of the Dwarves drifted to the supper fires while we saw to the dogs’ meat. I was so hungry that my stomach was in a knot, but I ignored it until Mhornar and Alabrin had had their full measure of fresh antelope chunks. How glad I was when at last Fíli and I could rinse the dogs’ bowls and hang them to dry! Over to the cooking fires we went, and soon hunkered down beside Klyn and Barkhuzi to wolf down our helpings.

Yah, the skewered chunks of antelope were hot and crispy outside, almost burnt, but inside they were still red and juicy. A sprinkling of spices on the outside cut the gamey flavor with a resinous tang that I liked very much. Klyn snagged us bowls of stew filled with more chunks of antelope, then I got us a huge stack of seared and charred ribs like those we’d had after the hunter trials. I accounted for almost a whole side of the beast all by myself. A mountain of flatbread was the perfect thing to wrap around bits of tender, long-simmered meat; the accompanying sauce was thick, fragrant, and spicy with sage, and it soaked into the chewy bread most deliciously.

The one dish that wasn’t meat appeared on a huge griddle, a sort of chutney made of pungent yellow bulbs akin to the pale white onions we knew back in Thorin's Halls. It was very thick and sticky, almost a paste, and sweet. Barkhuzi told me I’d guessed right about the bulbs, which were sliced into a generous dollop of goat fat and slow simmered by the edge of the fire until they reduced to the paste. It was the perfect thing to slather on my flatbread packet of meat and sauce, or coat a well-charred rib.

The bowls that went around weren’t full of arkhi, but hot, unfermented milk with spices. It smelled like Maamr’s chai, and tasted similarly, though without the tea. I washed down my supper with several bowls of it. Before long, I was full and warm.

As the meal wound down, people brought out their flutes, whistles, drums, and lutes, and the rounds started. I was happy to listen to the music until the clamor went up for Fíli and me to take a turn on our fiddles. Cyth was one of the loudest voices, and she had our fiddles in their cases slung over her shoulder to hand to us. I hastily wiped my greasy fingers on my trews so that I didn’t foul the strings, grinning when I spotted Fíli doing the same thing. We did the same warmup as we’d done our first night under Kahgli’s tents, playing one or two slow melodies to limber our fingers. The full clan was just as enamored with our back and forth play on the reels and the jigs, and we did some quick turns that showed how well we played in unison. Because there were so many other musicians, we didn’t have to play ourselves out, which meant we’d take another turn later.

I wondered if the Urghul Dwarves would be ignored, or asked to play something. Did they even know how to play any instrument, be it simple tin whistle or the more complex lute? As if she heard my mental question, Derfrulia beckoned to Ankulaz and his mates sitting off to the side by themselves. For a moment I felt a pang of sympathy for them, because I knew how painful was the plight of the outcast. But then the mystery surrounding Yanna’s Maamr leavened my sympathy with wariness, and so did my conversation with Grun who’d tried to sow disquiet between my brother and me.

I’d hold on to my caution a bit longer.

The three Urghul Dwarves exchanged looks. Maybe Ankulaz looked surprised, but Kazunki’s dour expression never changed, and neither did Grun’s perpetual half smile. Only Grun disappeared, returning with a beautifully carved recorder. He played nimbly, and one or two of the Kahgli flutes and a drummer eventually joined in to elaborate on his tunes. By the time he’d played one or two airs, the clapping had resumed its enthusiastic beat in time with the drum, and the clear tension had dissipated.

When it was time for Fíli and me to play another turn, we did a challenge, where he’d play one phrase and I’d try to match it, then we’d reverse. We’d always enjoyed doing so, and quickly other players joined in to give it a try. Fíli and I weren’t familiar with Kahgli’s tunes, so we had a harder go trying to follow them, just as Kahgli had a harder go with ours. But this was not serious competition, and we all had fun in the trying. Even Grun took a turn – he was amazingly quick and had a good ear. He and I went back several times, which I enjoyed. It was good to stretch my fingers with new tunes, and to laugh without apology if I didn’t get the tune exactly right.

As the cooking fires grew low, folk piled the remnants from supper into one pot or another, and stowed them in the warm edges of the fire. I was tired from the day’s long, fast ride, my introduction to Lathga, the unpacking, the big feast, and the rounds of music, so made no complaint when Fíli nudged me to find our beds. We bade Klyn and Barkhuzi good night, as well as our other new friends, and I followed my brother to the necessary. We were just about to go into the tent when Fíli paused by the door.

“Mahal,” he sighed. “Do you think we’re on first watch tonight?”

“ _Skator-u_ ,” I mouthed under my breath. “I forgot about that completely. No one said anything to me, and I forgot to ask.”

“ _Dahaut_ ,” Fíli groaned softly. “Come on. We’d better ask.”

I sniffed in exasperation, then snickered. “Maamr would throw us both into bed and insist we were sick if she heard us being so responsible.”

Fíli’s chuckle was rich. “That she would. But we don’t want to be sent home for her to take after us, so off we go.”

We met Cyth coming the other way. “Where are you two off to?” she demanded sternly, putting her arms akimbo.

Fili strove to look properly penitent. “We forgot to ask Arkhanneh and Drekkani if we were supposed to stand watch tonight. So we’re off to find them.”

Cyth’s chuckle was more snort than laughter. “The both of them are still at the fire, and will be. Travelers never have to stand watch the first night they’re back under the tents. So just both of you turn yourselves around and find your blankets. Tomorrow you start work in earnest, and you’d better sleep while you can.”

“Thank Mahal,” I whispered under my breath so only Fíli heard me.

“Just what we’d both like,” Fíli said with persuasive reassurance. “Come, Rinnala. Time for rest.”

I let Fíli and his queen precede me and my pair back to the tent. We gratefully ducked under the canvas to leave our boots at the door, eager to plop down in our space – except there was no space to plop down onto. Our baggage was still in a jumble, and our sleeping pads, covers, and blankets were stacked beside it, waiting for us to arrange everything to our likes. Fíli and I wasted no time to turn the bundles into cozy sleeping nests, and to arrange our packs at the outside edge of the tent. Once we’d shifted everything into place, we invited the dogs to stretch out in their accustomed places – Rinnala and Mhornar on the outside, and Alabrin between Fíli and me. As we worked, one or two other Dwarves came into the tent to do the same thing; it would be fuller now, now that we were with the whole clan. I was too tired to pay attention to most of the going and coming; maybe they were Derfrulia’s sons and their wives? I’d sort it out in the morn. For now, I was happy to strip my tunic and trews, point my feet towards the fire, roll into my blankets, and shut my eyes.

“You were amazing on the horse, Kíl,” my brother’s voice came from far, far away. He might’ve poked my leg, but I was too sleepy to be sure.

I smiled. “I didn’t want to disappoint you, Fíl. I’m glad I didn’t.”

“Course you didn’t, doh kro. You were every bit of that eerie fucking menace you wanted to be. I was proud of you and then some.”

I sat up to give Fíli a grateful, if sleepy, smile, but a cavernous yawn split it in two before the expression was fully formed. “Thank you, Fíli. I’m so glad.”

Fíli poked me with his finger, but it was a gentle one. “Go to sleep before you fall over.”

I slid flat like a sack of grain. “Too late. I’m already over. Good night, brother.”

“Night, Kíl.”

Mhornar and Alabrin followed Fíli’s finger poke with cold, moist nose pokes, drawing my chuckle. I fell asleep before the sound faded in my ears.

 

* * *

 

Kíli dropped off into sleep like he was stunned, but it took me somewhat longer before I shut my eyes. I hadn’t had the excitement of being pitched aback a half-wild stallion to thunder over the grass; Instead, I’d watched the three Urghul Dwarves when my brother had come flying back with hair whipping around him and dogs racing on either side of him. I’d been close enough to Ankulaz to see him finger his string of amulets, and I’d seen Kazunki’s usual stoic expression change to something more startled. I hadn’t wanted them to catch me watching them, so I’d looked quickly away to clap and cheer my brother as he met Kahgli’s raucous acclaim. His face was alight with his reception, and his eyes caught mine just for a moment as he grinned even wider. Oh, that doh kro was going to have our new friends throw me aback that huge horse next, and I braced for the rush to turn my way.

But it didn’t.

Not a single Dwarf looked in my direction as they nearly knocked Kíli to the ground with the exuberance of their hearty back slaps.

“There’ll be no living with him now, I suppose,” a soft voice reached my ears. I started – I hadn’t heard Grun slip to my side. The Dwarf stood beside me and stroked his mustaches as he regarded Kíli thoughtfully, not me. “He’ll be Kahgli’s great hope for the fall festival races, like as not. Yah, he’s still young – won’t have the balance to keep his head from filling as full of air as a bloated goat, all because he can hold onto a horse’s mane. He’ll think he’s something special, won’t he?”

For one fractured second, envy clouded my thoughts. Ever since we’d met Derfrulia, everything had gone Kíli’s way. He’d become so entranced with everything he saw that the steppe had returned his worship with its own – first two beautiful wolfhounds, then overwhelming success in the archery trials, and now the acclaim of a fucking monster of a horse and an entire clan the second he laid eyes on them. He hadn’t had to work for any of it. Not any of it –

Oh, Valar, listen to me! I was no better than the bullies who’d plagued my little brother.

Shame washed over me even faster than envy had, and it wasn’t quick to dissipate.

Kíli hadn’t had to work because he was so attuned, so adept, so perfectly matched to everything we’d encountered so far. After all he’d endured back in Thorin’ Halls, I should be delighted that my little brother had found a better time here.

I would be, once I dulled the serpent’s teeth that’d tried to infect me with their venom.

I plastered a big, proud smile across my face, and slapped Grun’s back as if he’d paid Kíli a high compliment. “ _Dahaut_ , Grun, my brother _is_ something special! You saw him – my little brother’s fucking amazing, isn’t he? I can’t wait for that fall festival, can you? He’ll give it his all to win that race for us, and I’ll be eager to stand in front of everyone to cheer him on. It won’t be him having the big head about it – it’ll be me, like as not, I’m that proud of him. It’ll be stellar!”

I gave Grun another thump on the back. He didn’t have to know my blow was harder than mere exuberance; it was apt repayment for his sly disparagement, and I was gratified when he winced. I kept grinning, whistling through my teeth and clapping for Kíli’s effort. It was a pleasure to leave Grun to rub his arm while I plunged through the bustle after my brother, and an even bigger one to see the big smile Kíli gave me when I reached his side.

Still, I had a lot to think about as we sat with the other hunters, shared supper with our friends, and took our turn with our fiddles.

For the first time, I wasn’t the Clan Durin Dwarf who received all the acclaim while my brother stood by in the shadows.

For the first time, I wasn’t the Clan Durin Dwarf to be held as the promise of greater things, even if the greater thing was a horse race.

For the first time, I realized just how hard it must have been for Kíli to bear all the praise, acceptance, and regard that I’d come to take as my due during our short lives. Despite all the pranks he’d played, despite all the tussles we’d gotten into, he’d never balked at deferring to me as Durin’s heir, letting me go first, letting me speak for both of us. He’d never done so with any indication of resentment, but inside, had he felt inferior, inadequate, a disappointment? Of course he had. He’d said so when Flor, Flin, and Glimbel had beaten him so badly, and again when he’d tried to kill himself.

Valar. My brother’s courage was quiet, but it was unfailing, and I might never match it.

Nothing was certain, but it might well be that while Kíli and I were out here on the grass, he would be the leader, and I the follower. Knowing that made me understand a little more about what Uncle Thorin’s burden must be. He was the head of an impoverished, exiled clan who made his living as an itinerant blacksmith and caravan guard, and being the heir of a lost kingdom was more burden than solace. He’d taken all the work offered him, no matter how menial, to take care of Maamr, Kíli me, and the rest of our folk, as best he could. Was it any wonder that Kíli had a deep store of that same strength?

It would be my honor to second Kíli out here as well as I was able, just as he had done for me for so long without complaint.

When we finally got our space in the tent settled, and the dogs nestled in their spots, Kíli was swift to strip his clothes and pull his blankets close. But before he fell asleep, I shook his leg gently.

“You were amazing on the horse, Kíl.”

Kíli gave me a blurry, grateful smile. “I didn’t want to disappoint you, Fíl. I’m glad I didn’t.”

My brother’s artless admission stabbed me with guilt, so I infused as much certainty into my words as I knew how. “Course you didn’t, doh kro. You were every bit of that eerie fucking menace you wanted to be. I was proud of you and then some.”

Kíli fell asleep with a contented smile, and Mhornar laid her head on Kíli’s thigh with a sigh. Alabrin already dozed between Kíli and me, and on my right Rinnala gave me a longsuffering look because I hadn’t yet lain down to take my own rest. I unfurled my blankets over me, and my pretty queen settled beside me with a comforting nuzzle.

All was quiet; even the soft stirrings of the other Dwarves as they settled their spaces was barely audible. The hearth fire hissed occasionally, and the tent canvas ruffled in the wind. Except for a thirty-second conversation, the day had been stellar.

Those thirty seconds, though... they made me mad.

No one would drive a wedge between my brother and me. No one.

Tomorrow morn, Kíli and I had plans to make.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli and Kíli have their first hunting lesson out on the steppes.

_“You spoke to the Durin heir. What did he say?”_

_“He bragged about his brother. Lorded him over me, he did. Seems to think he’s got some magical power over horses.”_

_“Maybe he does. That stallion could’ve been cousin to the Taalderfruli.”_

_A snort. “You believe that?”_

_“Why shouldn’t I?”_

_“You’re superstitious.”_

_“The stallion might not be the Taalderfruli, but he was big and powerful, and nothing easy to ride. The heir’s brother must have a gift of some kind to stay astride him.”_

_“You’re both superstitious. He’s just a gangrel Dwarf. Anyone with arms and legs that long could stay on any beast, be it pony, goat, cow, or horse.”_

_“If he has arms and legs long enough to ride a horse that big, he has them because Mahal gave them to him, and that means He means for him to master horses.”_

_“Including the Taalderfruli.”_

_“You’re not just superstitious – you’re a fool.”_

_“Enough, both of you. Whether Kíli has magical powers or not makes no difference to us.”_

_“If he does, then it makes all the difference in the world. He shot at your father. Next thing you know, he’ll hex you.”_

_“Oh, so you’re just as superstitious as you say we are, then. If Kíli has magical powers, then Mahal made him a friend to all horses, including the Taalderfruli. He might well be a friend to us as well.”_

_“And our enemy just as easily.”_

_There was no reply._

_* * *_

 

Despite yesterday’s excitement, I woke early. It wasn’t by choice – my shins ached terribly, and my hips felt worse. The thought of walking wasn’t to be borne... but I had to. Staying in my blankets wouldn’t help my legs; only getting up and walking would. Was it too early for me to venture out? Maybe Fíli was already up, and he’d go with me? No, he was still dead to the world, the way I wish I were. Cyth was at the hearth, though, so maybe she’d already made tea. A few cups of that would warm the rest of me, if not ease my aching legs.

Stealthily, I eased on my tunic, smalls, trews, and thick socks. I didn’t want to wake Fíli, so when Rinnala raised her head, I urged her quiet. Alabrin and Mhornar regarded me with sleepy interest when I stuck their grooming brush in my tangled hair, but didn’t fuss when I crawled out of our space and over to the hearth.

“What’re you doing up so early, Kíli?” Cyth raked me up and down with a surprised eye.

“My legs,” I admitted with a rueful grimace. “Is there tea, please?”

“There _is_ tea, but it’s not what you need first.” Cyth rose to get a packet from her stores. She mixed a pinch of something into a cup of hot water and passed it to me. “Willow bark. Down that, then you can have your tea.”

I did as I was told, and didn’t complain of the bitter taste of the willow bark, because the warmth of the brew felt good in my belly. The tea that followed it down was just as bitter to my taste, but the butter in it was rich, and eased a bit of my stomach’s growls.

“Better or worse today? Your legs,” Cyth gestured to them.

“Not so good.” My sigh was resigned. “Valar, Cyth, how much taller can I grow? I’ll be as tall as a Man before long, and no Dwarf at all.”

“I’ve not seen any taller,” Cyth admitted as she mixed up the morn’s first flatbread. “Even a Dwarf’s hearty bones would ache being stretched so far. Have you found something to ease them other than willow bark? Poppy’s not the thing, of course, but –”

“N-no poppy,” I blurted before I could hold my tongue. Cyth cut me a sharp look, so I fumbled for an explanation. “They don’t hurt nearly enough for that – my legs, I mean. I just... I hate how bitter poppy is, and it makes me feel stupid. I had it once. Fíli had it, too. He said it was worse to get the gash stitched than it was to drink the poppy.”

“Ah,” Cyth nodded. “Both of you’ve had your share of training injuries, then.”

“Fíli’s was worse,” I hedged. I didn’t want to admit that I hadn’t needed poppy for any respectable reason. Fíli had been injured during Master Dwalin’s lessons; I’d just despaired after a beating. Despite my better straits, that weakness still shamed me.

“I’m sure yours was bad enough,” Cyth glanced at me as she slapped a ball of dough on her griddle and quickly flattened it into a round before it got too hot. “Out here, we can go years without ever a need for poppy. We keep it for only the direst of things, you see. Then along will come a year where we’ll need it several times. There’s no way to know. But your legs won’t give us reason for it.”

“Good,” I breathed easier. “Walking in the morn helps more than anything else, so I’ll finish my tea, and take Mhornar and Alabrin for their breakfast, and that’ll ease me.”

“You do that. By then, I’ll have more on the hearth than bread and tea. Today will be busy, so see that you come back to eat well beforehand.”

Cyth flipped over her round of bread, and I let more warm tea soothe my insides while the bread baked. When it was done, she broke off a huge wedge and handed it to me. I downed the dregs of my tea and took it eagerly. Once I’d slathered my bread with the _ceigeach_ _ìm,_ I thanked Cyth for her welcome snack, and gestured to the dogs, which silently rose to join me at the tent door. Rinnala watched her friends go, but stayed at my sleeping brother’s side. I pulled my boots on, and out we went into the dark.

The sun wasn’t quite up yet, but the sky was tinged with predawn light. Above me, the clouds were thin wisps like Lathga’s long tail, and the air was chill. I didn’t want to wake up Fíli, so I didn’t go back for another tunic to layer over the one I had on. Once the sun peeked over the horizon, the air would warm so swiftly that by noon it’d be well warm. I tramped to the necessary with dogs in tow, then we circled the tents twice to ease my legs.

The sun would be up any moment now, so I headed up to the top of the rise by the Kahgli mast to watch it. The brightening sky lit the land quite well enough for me to admire the scene while I brushed my dogs... and myself, too. Here and there ponies dotted the vast expanse of rises, mostly clustered in groups. I spotted Lathga and another pair of horses making their slow way up the eastern side of the rise to bask in the warming sunlight. A few Dwarves on ponyback paced slowly over the grass to keep an eye on things. And was that a goat just a little ways ahead of me, coming up the rise? I stood up to get a closer look at her. Valar, she was quite the grand matriarch, with a mythic spread of horns that spiraled and curved a good two feet back from her head. Her coat was long and silky, mostly whites and blacks, and she bore herself proudly as she led a train of followers among the rough scrub they loved to eat. What a sight it would be to watch the herding dogs try to budge this regal dam before she satisfied her appetite. That gave me reason to smile as I stuck the brush into my belt, went back down the western face of the ridge, looped around the far side of the tents, and came back around again.

My legs felt easier, so I took Mhornar and Alabrin to find Vikken. He wasn’t to be found, but one old hunter patiently fed his dog. I approached, and Maltudd was kind enough to tell me that it was polite to poke a few chunks of dried dung on the fire under the pot of water where we dipped the dogs’ bowls, especially if one was early or late in the day, and to tell Vikken if the meat were about to run low. The meat supply was fine, so I duly tended the fire, then sliced two bowls full of chunks for the dogs’ breakfast. To be polite, I stood beside Maltudd to feed Alabrin and Mhornar, and I was well rewarded for my courtesy. He knew both of my dogs, and said he had high hopes for a litter from them before long. Inquiring further, I was surprised to learn that Kahgli didn’t restrict their dogs’ breeding.

“You’re not overrun with pups?” I asked, but Maltudd shook his head.

“Na, na, our wolfhounds don’t have large litters, Kíli; usually only three or four pups. Winters are hard here, and dogs caught out at night alone have been known to freeze to death. We lose a few every year to age, and more to the wolves, and they’re not gifted with the longest of lives in any case. Nine years, at the most. So we welcome as many pups as they give us.”

I gulped. I’d known Mhornar and Alabrin for only a few days, but the thought of losing either of them so fast was painful.

“Do they drop their pups in the spring, like ponies and goats?”

“They’ll drop anytime, just as Dwarves do. They’re the smallest bits of fluff when they arrive, no more than a handful, Kíli. But in two months, they’re near the size of their dams.”

“Hardy dogs, then?” I asked.

“For the most part, they are. We still snug the young in the tents with their dams when they’re smallest, winter or summer. It’s not just to keep them warm, either – we put the smallest ones in the bairns’ baskets for a bit each day. Wolfhounds help us guard the tents at night, especially when we have kids and foals to guard, and we teach them to challenge anyone they don’t recognize. Putting the pups in the bairns’ baskets helps them recognize even the youngest of us.”

I grinned to think of Maamr would say about putting pups and bairns together. Oh, and oh, that would raise her formidable eyebrows. She wouldn’t think much of me wiping my greasy fingers on my trews, or scarfing down most of my food with my hands, either. She’d like the bright clothing and exotic earrings, even the tattoos, and she’d have nothing but praise for how hard the clan worked. But she wouldn’t like the nomadic roaming, because it’d remind her of how she’d roamed from lost Erebor to the Blue Mountains after the dragon came. In her mind, roaming meant homeless.

But Clan Kahgli wasn’t homeless. The whole of the steppe was its home, which is why its folk felt comfortable wherever they pitched their tents.

I suppose I should have felt more homesick, thinking of Maamr. But I didn’t. Other than my mother and Masters Dwalin, Balin, Oin, and Gloin, there was nothing to miss about Thorin’s Halls.

Mhornar and Alabrin were well fed now, so I cleaned their bowls, hung them to dry on the rack, and stuffed a few more bits of dried dung under the fire for good measure. I waved goodbye to Maltudd, and led my dogs back to the tent for my breakfast. Was Fíli up yet? My legs were still achy and I would have liked another round or two about the tents, but I didn’t know if that would upset the dogs so soon after they’d eaten or not, so didn’t risk it –

Ankulaz and his mentor rode right towards me up the rise.

I was so startled I didn’t remember the mentor’s name... Khelag? No, no, Kheluz! Strong, his name meant. I didn’t know what the clans did among themselves, but at Thorin’s Halls I was taught to speak when I passed an elder in the street. So I lifted a hand in greeting.

“Good morn, Kheluz. Good morn, Ankulaz.”

“Good morn, Kíli,” Kheluz returned my wave as he rode by.

Ankulaz didn’t speak, but at least he nodded. His expression was a mixture of emotions rather than surprise or dislike or pleasure at the good weather, and I didn’t try to sort out what it meant. He and Kheluz both had their bow rigs, so I offered them a genial question.

“Hunting, or guarding?”

“Guarding for sure, and hunting only if a wolf sees fit to stray among the herd,” the old Dwarf grinned.

“Ah, sharp eyes to you both for either one,” I grinned back.

“I thank you,” Kheluz waved in farewell. Behind him, Ankulaz still regarded me, but I refused to poke my tongue out at him, or cross my eyes, or offer him a handful of hexes. I was trying to be eerie and otherworldly, and a bairn’s impudence wouldn’t help me, no matter how much I wanted to shake him out of his blank expression. Mhornar poked her head under my hand, and I caressed her absently as the two Dwarves passed by.

I nearly dropped my teeth when Ankulaz lifted his hand as he went by.

I stared hard to make sure he didn’t offer me any of the hex signs I’d been tempted to make, but no, it was an innocuous gesture, if brief and perhaps furtive. I pondered that as he and Kheluz reached the top of the rise and headed north, then resumed my return to the family tent. Blessedly, I didn’t see either of Ankulaz’s seconds before I ducked under the canvas.

Merruli was at the hearth sipping his tea and spooning up porridge, so I settled the dogs in our space – Fíli was still fast asleep – and squatted on my heels beside the pony master for breakfast.

“Good morn, Merruli. And good morn again, Cyth.”

“Good morn, Kíli,” both Dwarves chorused. Cyth gave me a close look as she handed me a big bowl of porridge. “Legs eased a bit, then?”

“First time on a horse does that,” Merruli nodded sagely, winking at his grandmother.

Cyth waved a dismissive hand. “Kíli’s still growing, and you make sure you remember that. Give him time to warm a bit after he rises, and both of you will be better for it.”

“Yes, Gabilmaamr,” Merruli said dutifully, but with enough of a grin that Cyth poked his knee. I tried hard not to snicker, but Merruli winked at me despite my efforts. “And since you are so wise, what would be best for our still-growing hunter first thing this morn?”

“Today? What do you think?” Cyth poked Merruli again with her finger. “Oh, he knows one end of his bow from another, but he has to know where to look and what to look for before he shoots it, yes? So take him out and show him the herds. Show him where the wolves hide, and where the ponies are liable to get stuck. That’ll make him a better hunter and a better bow instructor by far.”

“Yes, Gabilmaamr,” Merruli repeated, grinning.

“Oh, you,” Cyth snorted. “You know what I’m going to say before I say it. Why do you even ask?”

“Because you’re fun to tease.” Merruli leaned in to kiss Cyth’s cheek, dodging her poking fingers along the way. “Now don’t poke me, Gabilmaamr. Kíli will go out on the grass this morn, just like all of the new hunters. So will his brother, if he ever gets up.”

“I’ll get him,” I said hastily, fumbling to put my porridge bowl down. “We won’t be late, either of us.”

“Finish your porridge, lad,” Cyth gave Merruli a stern look. “Neither of you are late, so your brother can sleep a few seconds more.”

“Yes, Cyth.” I shoveled porridge down my gullet even faster than usual so I could hurry to our space and shake my brother’s leg. Rousing slowly, he sat up to give me a jaundiced look.

“It’s still dark out, you doh kro,” he complained.

“No, it’s not. I’ve been up for an hour. We’re to go out on the grass for our first hunting lesson today, so you’d better come and eat.”

That got Fíli’s eyes open fast, and he scrambled to pull on his trews. “Oh, Valar! What about Rinnala? I have to feed her first. Don’t you have to feed your pair?”

“Already done, brother. I’m just back, and I’ve had only the one bowl of porridge.”

“Oh, Valar,” Fíli repeated, exasperated as he flung himself into his clothes. “Save me something. I’ll see to Rinnala first.”

He called to his queen, yanked on his boots, and fled out of the tent, leaving me to snicker. Fíli was usually much less harried, but he’d disappeared so fast that there wasn’t anything for me to do but go back and continue my breakfast. Most of the tent occupants were up now, and I shared hearth space with Derfrulia and Yanna; Merruli, his wife Ilka, and their bairn Issi; lead hunter Jiri and Azril, who were brothers to Ilka; and a pair of gray-haired herders, Simka and Jerun who were likely family, but I hadn’t sorted out how they were related to Derfrulia yet. Except for the bairn, I was by far the youngest Dwarf in the tent, but I knew the old adage about being seen and not heard and used it to my advantage – while everyone else talked, I concentrated on eating. By the time Fíli ducked back under the canvas, I’d inhaled porridge, stew, more porridge, flatbread, more porridge, several chunks of leftover antelope sizzled in antelope fat, and even more porridge. I had another bowl of hot milk as my brother settled Rinnala beside my pair and scurried to the hearth. He’d no sooner sat down than Cyth handed around a bowl of porridge for him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Fíli hastened to say as he took the porridge. “Thank you, Cyth. Good morn, all.”

Fíli’s apology was taken in good grace, and talk drifted to plans for the day. They were so much more casual about their plans than Maamr, Uncle, and whoever else came by to discuss things at home. Maybe life on the grass was too unpredictable to make more than general plans. Maybe this was a rare moment for the family to gather – Maamr also took time to talk to Fíli and me around the breakfast table. Ilka unswaddled her bairn from her basket and let her toddle among us; I was charmed when the mite stopped by me, resting one tiny hand on my knee to steady herself as she looked me over solemnly. I made a funny noise at her, which got a quirk of interest, then she crawled into my lap to grab at my handful of bread. With Ilka’s blessing, I gave the squirming bairn a tiny crumb to gum, which she seemed to enjoy with great enthusiasm.

Mostly, though, I listened. We’d camp here only a day or two longer, long enough to divide the clans into the four groups that typically spread across Kahgli’s range for the spring and summer. Derfrulia’s family group would settle in the middle of the range; each of the three smaller groups would spread further north about seven to ten miles away. The central camp was by far the larger one, because that’s where the clan would bring as many of the pregnant mares and goats as they could gather to better shield them from the wolves.

Valar, that told me a lot. The effort to snare so many pregnant animals and bring them so far across the grass to a central place was massive. Kahgli wouldn’t do that if it didn’t save the lives of their stock. So the wolves must be terrible predators to justify such a huge effort. Derfrulia had said that Fíli and I would stay with the family group, so we’d be some of the folk to keep the wolves at bay every day of the birthing season. That was an important job, and I was eager to learn all that I could so that I kept the young animals and their mothers safe.

As if he heard my thought, Jiri took Fíli and me in tow as soon as we finished breakfast. We brought our bows and dogs with us, got a trio of ponies from Merruli, and soon rode out north after the master hunter.

It was time to work.

 

* * *

 

Valar, I hadn’t started the day well by sleeping so late. At least I thought I slept late, but there weren’t so many other hunters out to feed their dogs, and the sun was barely above the horizon, and few folk were astir as I hastily ran to the necessary, then to the dogs’ feeding spot so I could slice Rinnala’s bowl of meat. Despite my urgency, I didn’t rush my beautiful queen through her meal; I’d be devastated if she took sick. I’d learned my lesson about the price of impatience when Kíli had gotten hurt so badly because I couldn’t wait to try out my new sword. I’d nearly lost him then. I wasn’t about to lose the dog that had chosen to sweeten my days on the grass.

Still, I was relieved when the last chunk of antelope went down Rinnala’s throat, and we could walk back to the tent. Once she was settled with Alabrin and Mhornar, I scurried to the hearth. Everyone slid a little closer to make room for me between Yanna and Jiri, so I stammered an apology for being late, and wished everyone a good morn as a bowl of porridge made it around the circle to me. As I spooned it up, conversation resumed about the plans for the next several days, which held my complete attention until Yanna leaned close to me.

“You’re not late, Fíli. If you’d been needed, someone would have roused you earlier. We rush out of the tent to feed our dogs, as you did, but not to reach the day’s work. We have to let the dogs settle a bit before we take them out.”

“Oh.” That relieved my worries, so I stopped shoveling down my porridge and gave Yanna a appreciative smile. “Thank you for explaining. I’ve got a ways to go before I know all of your ways, I’m afraid.”

“You’ve learned a lot already. Folk know you don’t have everything in your bones yet, but they can see that you pay close attention to learn, and you’re not afraid to do whatever’s put to you, and you ask when you don’t know something. And you don’t act like an entitled heir of anything. That’s good.”

I grinned as I took a piece of flatbread. Across the hearth, Kíli used his bread to wrap up chunks of antelope liberally soaked in gravy and attacked it with clear gusto, so I tried the same thing. Mmm, delicious! The gravy soaked into the bread and made it thick, juicy, and flavorful. When I’d swallowed my mouthful, I gave Yanna a rueful smile.

“I won’t ever be entitled to much, Yanna. Maybe one day Uncle Thorin will pass down his favorite battle shield to me, but not much else. Even that’s nothing fancy. When he fought at the Battle of Azanulbizar, his shield was split, and he was reduced to fighting off Orcs with an oak branch. It saved his life more than once, so he kept it as an heirloom, and he still bears it. So even Durin’s treasures, such that they are, have humble origins.”

“Modesty hurts no one,” Yanna observed, sipping hot milk from her bowl. “Would that others thought that way.”

She meant Clan Urghul, I was sure, but I didn’t want to talk about them. I looked a question at her. “I hope my brother hasn’t tried to put on airs.”

Yanna gave me a frown. “Of course not. How could you think so? He’s polite to a fault, when he speaks at all.”

“He’s spoken more out on the grass than he ever did in Thorin’s Halls. He loves it here. I might not ever get him home again.”

“Would that be so bad?” Yanna rebuked me.

“Of course not. I like it here, too, and to see Kíli happy and well is the best gift.”

“He was sick?” Yanna’s eyes darkened with concern.

I hesitated. It wasn’t my place to air Kíli’s hardships to anyone I met, so I shrugged. “His talents are valued more here.”

That got a snort out of the maid, and the silver bells in her ears and along the fringes of her beard danced with exasperation. “I wouldn’t like to live in Thorin’s Halls, then. Kíli is as sweet as one of Rinnala’s pups, he’s swift as death with his bow, and he’s gentle with every animal he meets. How are those things less important than how tall and thin he is, or whether he has a beard or not?”

Valar, had my little brother smitten the most beautiful Dwarf maid I’d ever met, too?

“I don’t know,” I sighed, trying to remember yesterday’s resolution to support my brother as well as he’d supported me for so long. “He’s a strong warrior, he’s honest, he’s true, and he plays the best pranks of any Dwarf I’ve ever met.”

Yanna’s mouth fell open in surprise. “Mahal, if he’s as good at pranks as he is at everything else, then they must be epic.”

“Yah, more than epic. But he’s been on his good behavior because he doesn’t want to give Derfrulia any reason to send him back to Thorin’s Halls.”

“That won’t happen,” Yanna met my eyes firmly. “He’s welcome to stay my little brother out here as long as he wants.”

My eyes widened. Little brother? Yanna thought Kíli would make a good little brother, and not...

“What about me?” I gave the maid a small smile.

“Of course you can stay, too!” the maid gave me a warm smile. “You’ve got Kahgli’s clan bead, don’t you?”

Something danced in Yanna’s eyes, so I ventured to tease her back. “Ah. Kíli will be your little brother, and I’ll be your not-so-little brother.”

The maid reddened. If that wasn’t clear enough for me, she cut her eyes sideways to see if anyone else around the hearth paid us any attention, then leaned forward. “Is that what you think?”

“I think,” I whispered back, “that I’d be happy to be anything you want me to be.”

She reddened nicely again, but her smile held no ridicule in it. “Mahal. Maybe Thorin’s Halls doesn’t value your brother as it should, but it taught you nice manners.”

I burst out laughing. “Mahal yourself, maid. Now let me finish my breakfast or no amount of good manners will save me from being late for something.”

“Looking for wolves,” she informed me. “Jiri will take you and Kíli out to look for wolves.”

Despite the pleasure of teasing a beautiful maid, a thrill of excitement warmed my solar plexus. “Oh, that’ll be fine! I can’t wait!”

“It’s an honor for Jiri to take you both out,” Yanna informed me. “He’s the most experienced, and the best tracker. He must think you and Kíli have great potential to offer to be your teacher today. So make the most of it.”

“I will – we will,” I hastened to assure her. “Valar, thank you!”

I shoveled down the last of my flatbread and meat, drawing Yanna’s laughter. “Oh, Mahal, Fíli. It’s hard enough to bear a single word with Ankulaz as it is. It’s even harder now that I’ve met a well-spoken heir.”

She bent forward to put her milk bowl back on the hearth tray, then rose from her cross-legged position with utter grace to retreat to her space in the back of the tent. I watched her go until I felt Kíli’s eyes on me, so gave him a wink before I snared one more bowl of thick porridge.

In a few minutes, Jiri was ready to take Kíli and me on our first hunt for wolves. We got astride our ponies, called our dogs, and rode north along the top of the rise above the tents. As the rise was so wide, Jiri motioned for Kíli and me to ride on either side of him so that he could talk to us as we rode. He didn’t speak right away, but took in everything around us with a wise eye.

“Aye, we’ve got a good day for it,” he began. “Sun’s clear, clouds are high, wind’s from the west, more or less. Easy day to read, then – it’ll be dry all day, and likely hot by the time noon comes.”

He explained to us how he’d determined that from the type of clouds and the wind direction, as well as the season of the year. Such knowledge was second nature to him, but unlike some teachers who know things so well that they find it impossible to teach, Jiri was clear and concise in his lesson. He moved on quickly to talk about the different types of scrub on the eastern and western faces of the rises, and so Kíli and I told him what Klyn had explained to us.

“He’s smart,” Jiri nodded approvingly. “Wise with the dogs – you pay attention to what he tells you about them, lads, because he’ll not steer you wrong. And his mate Barkhuzi’s just as wise about ponies. You listen to them both.”

“I like Barkhuzi’s riding lessons,” Kíli grinned. “He knows right off when I don’t do something the way he wants, and explains it again right off. Keeps me from getting into a bad habit from the start.”

“That’s the best way to look at it – you’ll both be experts aback a pony before long.” He gave Kíli a wink. “And I hope our giant Lathga before long.”

Kíli giggled. “Valar, I thought a horse was just a big pony. That was dumb.”

“You stayed on well enough.”

“Oh, thank Lathga for that. He settled down before I fell off, and then it was a fine ride. He flies as smoothly and as swiftly as a falcon.”

“This horse race at the fall festival is important,” I ventured.

“Oh, aye,” Jiri affirmed. “You’ve always got folk who gamble on such things, but the real importance is for bragging rights. Usually we race just the ponies, but last year... that Maagratan and his horse surprised everyone. Lathga’s bigger, but he’s a handful. You did well, Kíli. Fíli, it wouldn’t hurt you to try him, too. We’ve got other horses who can run, so if we can put more than one in the race, that’d help our odds. But that’s talk that needs to wait. Today, you learn about wolves, ponies, and how to keep one safe from the other.”

As we rode, our dogs ranged ahead of us, often detouring down into the dips into either side of us. Jiri pointed out how the deepest dips between rises harbored the biggest trees, because those had the most water. Rabbits and foxes made their dens there, and owls liked to perch in the trees as they watched their prey. As he spoke, he pointed out one such predator, an owl still wearing its white winter plumage, intently watching Alabrin nose the ground below it.

“Oh!” Kíli exclaimed, as a rabbit stuck a nose out of the brush, spotted the owl, and fled back into the deepest brush with Jiri's dog, Hellvaen, in close pursuit. “Fíli and I have those rabbit skins we took on the way here. Klyn said we’d be wise to tan them and save them against the winter.”

“Aye,” Jiri agreed. “Take all you can, because they’ll ease the worst of the cold. Do you know how to tan the skins?”

“We don’t,” I admitted. “We’ve skinned many a deer, but we trade the raw skins for other things from our folk who don’t hunt.”

“Isn’t hard, and a rabbit’s small – you’d likely get the most of it done in a couple of hours. You’ll want to do them soon before the skin starts to sour. Cyth can set you straight on the way of it.”

We resolved to ask her about it at the first chance, then the subject went back to the reason Kíli and I were out here – to protect Kahgli’s stock from predators. So we both paid close attention to where the goats liked to browse, which was different from where the ponies liked to browse. By now, we were well out on the grass, and the Kahgli mast behind us was all but invisible. Antelope were common, but they stayed well away from us and our dogs while the goats and ponies paid us little mind as they ate. Jiri showed us the place where something had raised the dip between three of the ridges an eon ago, leaving a vast, smooth plain with very little slope. It was thronged with Kahgli stock as well as antelope, all intermingled over the grass. In a day or so, this was where we’d have the spring celebration we’d heard about with games and contests. It sounded very exciting.

We rode on past the flat expanse to where the rises resumed, and Jiri began his first real description of the wolves. Like Dwarves, they preferred their dens to be on the eastern side of the rises, to escape the worst of the bad weather. Like Dwarves, they lived in extended families, and hunted and played together. In fact, they were so much like Dwarves that I felt a slight kinship towards them.

“Don’t expect them to feel any kinship towards us,” Jiri cautioned. “They see us as competitors who take food from the mouths of their pups, just as we view them. The most important thing to remember is that they never hunt alone. Where you’ll find one, you’ll find another. Don’t forget that.”

Neither Kíli nor I had a chance to acknowledge that, because a thin, plaintive cry barely reached our ears. I noticed it only after Jiri stilled his pony and his dog, and ordered us to follow suit. There it came again, clearly now that we were still.

“That’s a new kid,” Jiri said, his voice short and clipped. “Come on, lads. We find it quick, or the wolves will.”

The master hunter signaled to Hellvaen to heel, so Kíli and I did likewise with our dogs. When Jiri took his bow in hand and nocked an arrow loosely in the string, so did my brother and I.

“It likely won’t be out in the open,” Jiri warned. “Dams find a thicket to drop their young. So look low.”

Rinnala and I took the dip on the left, and Kíli and his dogs took the one on the right, both of us scanning for any movement or sound. Despite the urgency clear in Jiri’s bearing, he didn’t race along the rise, but went at a steady walk, stopping every few yards to listen again.

“Down there?” I ventured, just as Jiri pointed in the same direction.

“Wait,” Kíli breathed, pointing just to the right. “There’s a wolf.”

There was indeed. A very large wolf crouched at the side of a dead goat, already tearing out mouthfuls of meat and swallowing them whole. We’d missed the kill by only a few moments.

“Mahal,” Jiri breathed. “It’s taken the dam. Quick, while it’s feeding, Kíli, go right, and if the wolf runs, you take off after it. Don’t let it escape. Fíli, go left, and keep your eyes open, lad. We can’t save the dam, but we have to do our best to save the kid.”

We did exactly as Jiri said. The old hunter and Hellvaen headed directly for the wolf, but it bolted left, right towards me, so I nocked my arrow and let it fly. _Dahaut_ , the beast jinked even farther left, so my arrow hit it in the hindquarters, crippling it, but not killing it. As I nocked another one, Rinnala raced after the wolf, turning it up the rise and across my path so that I could finish it off. I grabbed another arrow and fitted it to my bow, called to Rinnala, and we turned back to the right. Just in time – Jiri and Hellvaen tore after another wolf that dashed along the scrub line. Kíli was higher up the rise with his dogs, but he sent the dogs to support Hellvaen while he sprinted after Jiri.

It was a damned good thing Kíli was so quick to pursue. No sooner had Jiri shot the beast in front of him than he slowed, which gave the wolf that erupted out of the scrub the perfect shot at his pony’s hindquarters. I didn’t know how Kili managed it, but my brother put his arrow right through the ribs of the leaping wolf, and it dropped with a thud and a snarl. Jiri didn’t realize what Kíli had done until he spotted my brother’s ashen face.

“Mahal, you’re not going to faint, are you?” the old hunter said, fighting to keep the disappointment out of his expression.

“He’s not light-headed.” I rode up to the others and pointed to the wolf that Kíli had dropped behind Jiri. “He’s surprised. That came out of the brush like a flash and jumped for your pony. None of the dogs had spotted it. I don’t know how you got your bow up in time, Kíl.”

“Oh, by all the Valar,” Jiri mouthed, spotting the third wolf for the first time. “I’m sorry, lad, I thought...”

“You-you said they never h-hunted alone,” Kíli tried to explain. His fingers tightened on his bow – _skator_ , he’d managed to nock another arrow despite the shock of the third wolf’s ambush. “So I thought – I thought I’d better follow you?”

Jiri grinned. “You thought right, and better than I did, and the dogs. And look at the both of you, arrows nocked in case there’s another. I chose the right pair of companions today, I did. Now, let’s find the kid.”

That proved daunting. The dogs soon found the baby goat, which had wedged herself into the deepest pit of briars there was, and it took a lot of hacking and cursing to get her out. Jiri and the four dogs stood watch over Kíli and me as we chopped and hacked. It wasn’t the most auspicious first use of my new sword that I could have asked for, but it won the day and let Kíli slither into the remains to cut the small thing free. He crawled out with the kid in his arms, well scratched, dirty, and disheveled for his efforts, but he had a big grin on his face as he carried the baby to Jiri. Only then did we have the chance to retrieve our arrows, and survey the quartet of carcasses.

“Can I skin the wolf?” Kíli asked Jiri, looking down at the wolf he’d shot.

“Valar, yes,” Jiri nodded at once. “Your first wolf is always a big one. But Mahal, that one is a big wolf any way you consider it.”

Jiri was right. Kíli’s wolf was a male in his prime, and bigger than any wolf I’d ever thought about, much less seen. Mine wasn’t much smaller. Neither was Jiri’s, but as big as he was, he was a juvenile and would have grown even bigger if he hadn’t run afoul of us.

“You’ll want the pelt in any case. Dark ones are rare, especially ones so big. They stand out more against the grass than the greyer ones.”

Kíli’s eyes flickered when Jiri made mention of the wolf’s dark fur. Did my brother have something in mind for his pelt? It surely had something to do with his ambition to be that eerily fucking menace. Whatever it was, it would be awesome.

“What about the goat? Do we leave her here?” I asked.

“Not at all. She’s a sore loss, to be sure. But we can salvage her fleece. Even if we couldn’t, we’d still take her back to the tents. We don’t want any more wolves to develop a taste for our animals than we have to.”

We tied the lot of carcasses on our ponies. Jiri took the goat and her orphaned kid, so I took one of the wolves and Kíli took the other two. Then we began the long way home.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers Durin reflect on the aftermath of their first wolf hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> Gajarpan langaturz = dirty snake (Black Speech)  
> Hut vaudhomuurz = sneaky vulture (Black Speech)

 

We were at least five miles from Kahgli’s camp, so once we got a dead goat, three dead wolves, and one squirmy kid tied onto our ponies, I expected a long trek back to the tents afoot. But I was wrong – Jiri climbed on his pony and gestured for Fíli and me to follow suit. I wasn’t concerned for the ponies that Fíli and I rode; I, of course, was so thin that it was no burden for my pony to bear me plus a pair of dead wolves. Fíli might have much more heft than I, but he hadn’t come close to his full stature, so it was just as easy for his pony to bear one wolf and him as it was for mine to carry two wolves and me. Jiri, however, was no slender youth. He was big and burly, with a barreled rib cage that was nearly twice the girth of mine, and if the kid cradled in his arms were a wee thing, her dam was not. Kahgli’s ponies were sturdy beasts, though, and Jiri’s showed no discomfort as we rode home.

Jiri continued our education about ponies, goats, wolves, foxes, rabbits, mice, and eagles all the way back, as if nothing untoward had happened. All of it was interesting as well as essential, but I was distracted every time he mentioned the wolves, thinking about how I’d come to shoot my first one.

One moment, I’d ridden full bore after Jiri, trying to get my dogs and me ahead of him to cut off the wolf’s path up the rise and away from us. The next, another wolf had erupted in total silence out of the scrub to launch himself at my unaware teacher and pony. I hadn’t thought – I’d just drawn my bow, shot, and willed the arrow to its target, right under the right foreleg and through the wolf’s heart.

The next moment had been the heart stopper. The wolf had hung suspended in midair, seeming to drop no slower than a feather in a stiff breeze. Ahead of him, Jiri had pulled up his pony, and I’d had a vision of the wolf somehow managing to sink his teeth into the pony’s spine, if not Jiri’s unprotected back, or raking its claws down the pony’s hindquarters. No, no, that couldn’t happen! I’d shot the wolf – I’d _seen_  my arrow protruding straight through the wolf’s ribs – but for the longest moment, the wolf’s eyes had still blazed with life, and there’d been nothing I could do for it.

Never have I been so relieved to see the target of my arrow fall.

By the time the Kahgli mast finally appeared before us, I must’ve relived those three moments a dozen times, but most of what Jiri had said on the way home sank in. I’d ask Fíli later if I’d missed anything. He probably suspected my distraction, for he’d glanced at me now and again as we paced home, but I was grateful that he didn’t speak of it. I was also glad that few folk were about the tents when we rode in, mostly the dams with bairns still at the breast, the younglings too small to sit a pony, and a pair of old Dwarves who saw to tasks around the tents. Jiri’s herald sent one of the oldsters off to fetch Cyth, who came out to survey us as we rode in. Several folk joined her – oh, and oh, the tents weren’t as empty as I’d thought. There were tenders out with a nearby group of hobbled ponies, and a pair of herders and their dogs who oversaw a few goat dams and their kids that I hadn’t seen this morn, and one or two more. There was Klyn and his dog Kulazhath, working with a trio of young wolfhounds. Vikken worked with another trio just beyond. Fortunately, the sight of three of the clan returning home was common enough that most folk greeted us with just a wave before they turned back to their tasks. Only Cyth came forward with a concerned look – no, Klyn brought his fair of dogs to see what had brought us home so early, too.

“Oh, Mahal,” Cyth muttered when she saw the dead goat behind Jiri. “The kid, too?”

“We saved her,” Jiri said, handing down the baby.

“Another early one.” Cyth took the tiny animal from Jiri, turned towards the two Dwarves watching the dams and kids, and held the kid aloft. “Shath! Another kid!”

As one of the herders trotted towards us, Cyth stroked the kid with gentle hands. “Let’s hope one of the other dams accepts this one, or we’ll have to nurse her by hand.”

“We’re lucky not to have lost a pony and his fool rider, too,” Jiri grinned, drawing Cyth to turn a speculative eye on my brother and me. “And before you think worse of the young ones, they’re not the fools. I am.”

My face flamed with both pride and embarrassment as Jiri made much of my split-second shot. Fíli received his share of praise, too, for bringing down the wolf that’d led the attack. Klyn’s mouth fell open when we got the three wolf carcasses off the ponies and he saw how big they were. By this time, enough folk had gathered around us that almost everyone else among the tents came to investigate, from the smallest bairns on their dams’ shoulders to the oldsters who would butcher the goat.

Oh, Valar. I didn’t like being the draw for a public gather. Not that I expected anything ill to come of this one, but I tensed out of old habit. It was easier to grab a handful of scrubby grass to wipe the wolf blood off my pony’s rump than face all the curious folk. Fíli had an attentive audience of admiring maids, and maybe I could’ve shared in that, but... better to let Fíli flirt with them, as he had with Yanna this morn, than me. I sidled up to Cyth, who had drawn her boot knife and was about to help skin the goat.

“Jiri said you were the one to ask about how to tan the wolf’s pelt,” I asked her diffidently. “Because I have my rabbit skins, too, and I need to do them before they sour past saving.”

“You do, indeed,” Cyth nodded, putting her arms akimbo. “You’ll have a nice wolf skin blanket come this winter, to be sure. It’s a good, thick pelt.”

“Um, I don’t want to make a blanket out of it,” I demurred. “I wonder... if I keep the skin intact, from head to tail, it’d make a hood, with the forelegs as ties...”

Cyth’s considering smile waxed to something devious. “Aye, Kíli, it’d make a most striking hood. Especially with the face and ears atop your head. It’s trickier to skin the wolf that way, but we’ll do it. And perhaps your brother would like one, too?”

“I’m sure he would,” I smiled. “Thank you, Cyth.”

“You may not by the end of the day. You’ve got a lot of work ahead of you.”

“I’ll help you, Kíli,” Klyn said softly beside me. “I’ll help you tan it, too. It’ll look stellar. And it’ll keep Clan Urghul off its balance.”

Cyth gave the small Dwarf a sharp look, but while Klyn gave a furtive look around, his shrug was unrepentant. “Kahgli may have to foster them, but we don’t have to let them think we’re weak.”

Cyth held my friend’s gaze a bit longer, but he held her eyes even when her expression turned fierce. At length, she nodded in agreement. “Just so. Kahgli does not appear weak to anyone.” Her gaze fell on me, and she nodded towards the family tent. “See to your pony, Kíli, then fetch your rabbit skins. You have a lot of work to do.”

I took her at her word, so called to Mhornar and Alabrin, and took my mount to the pony master’s tent. Fíli was still regaling the maids, so I led his pony away with mine. They were mostly dry after the morn’s exertion, so I wouldn’t have much to do but unsaddle them, see to their hooves, clean up any dribs of wolf blood, and put the hobbles on them to keep them close to the tents. Klyn came with me.

“Did it happen just as Jiri said, Kíl?” he asked eagerly, grabbing a set of hobbles and two brushes, and tossing me one of each. “Just like that, the third wolf appeared?”

“Without a sound.” I slipped the hobbles over my pony’s front hooves, grinning when Alabrin flopped down on the grass, rolled around a bit, then batted his front legs at Mhornar when she sauntered past him. My dogs began a game of dart and chase with Kulazhath, looking very silly as they jinked back and forth. I turned back to loosen my pony’s saddle girth. “He was so fast... I don’t know how I brought my bow to bear on him. I suppose he was too big to miss.”

“He is the biggest fucking wolf I’ve ever seen,” Klyn exclaimed, as he heaved the saddle off Fíli’s pony. “The one that Fíli shot isn’t much smaller. Brothers, maybe.”

My snicker was self-conscious as I set my saddle beside the pony and started to brush him. “Yah, but they ran into the Durin brothers, and sorry they are about it, both of them.”

Klyn laughed, too, thumping me on the back. “You’re funny, Kíli. You could make the maids laugh as well as Fíli does, if you wanted.”

“ _Skator-u_ maids,” I snorted, brushing away. “Though I grant you, Kahgli maids aren’t the terrors that Thorin’s Halls maids are. The only reason one of those maids ever wanted to get close to me was to get to my brother. They’d sooner laugh about how tall, dark, skinny, unbearded, unpelted, and in all ways ugly I was than laugh about anything I’d ever say to them. Better to keep my mouth shut. I don’t know if I even like them, anyway. Fíli can have them and welcome.”

Klyn grunted in commiseration. “Ah. Maybe you’re like Barkhuzi and me. It’s easier, to be honest. A lot more chances, and none of the stir and drama about courting a maid, even out here on the grass. Lads are more practical about things. Though... maybe you don’t have the choice, because you’re second heir?”

I gave my pony’s flank another three strokes before everything Klyn meant sank in, and when it did, I flushed bright red from my toes to my ears. All the explanations that even a Dwarf of my age heard finally became reality rather than a lesson. Only one-third of our folk were female, so of course it was common for lads to pair up, sometimes just for companionship, and sometimes for more. Suddenly other hints rearranged themselves in my thoughts - Klyn had told Fíli and me when we'd met him that he was related to Clan Kahgli by marriage, and Cyth had told us that Klyn was an orphan who didn't know his original clan, too. And what had Jiri said earlier this morn, before wolves had become the consuming focus? That Klyn and _his mate_ Barkhuzi were wise about ponies and dogs? He hadn’t meant that my two friends were merely friends. They were... well, mates, with all that meant.

“You-you’re...”

“Oh, Mahal, Kíli,” Klyn said with a sympathetic grin. “You didn’t realize?”

“N-no,” I admitted, grimacing. I should’ve left it at that, but for some stupid reason, my tongue kept running. “I, um... don’t think about it. Ever. To be honest... I don’t think I like... anything. Not that it matters. Not out here, so far, but anywhere else, I’ve been hounded for how I look, so... there’s no point in thinking about it, is there?”

Klyn sobered, exhaled. “That’s brutal, even for our folk.”

Embarrassed, I shrugged as if it were immaterial. If I were honest, it _was_ immaterial.

“Maybe you can stay on the grass?” Klyn gave me a hopeful look. “You’d find a welcome with Barkhuzi and me, whether as friends or more than that. You’ve got a good soul, you don’t put on airs, you work hard, and you’ll make a stellar hunter. There’s lots of room for such folk out here. Kahgli made room for me, so I know Kahgli will make room for you, too, for as long as you want to be a hunter.”

I wanted to ask Klyn what had brought him out on the grass, but Fíli ran up before I could. “Oi, Kíli, I can see to my pony. You didn’t have to take her.”

“Klyn helped, so it wasn’t a bother.”

“Thanks to you, too, then, Klyn,” my brother offered. “Cyth’s overseeing the goat, but she’ll help us with the wolves as soon as we see to the ponies.”

“I’ll help, too,” Klyn offered, as Fíli took over brushing his pony. “It’ll go faster that way, and you’ll be done before next week. Waiting on rabbit skins is one thing, but you’ll want to make the best pelt out of the wolves as you can.”

I told Fíli about my idea to make a hood out of my wolf pelt, and was well rewarded with a perverse grin when I suggested that he needed one, too.

“ _Skator_ , Kíl. That’s grand.”

“What’s that word?” Klyn’s brows knitted in confusion. “I’ve heard you say it before, but it’s a word I’ve never heard.”

“Oh, that’s another skill Master Dwalin insists we learn,” Fíli laughed. I snickered as my brother explained about Black Speech, and what _skator_ and _dahaut_ and _nar thos kurvanog_ meant. Klyn laughed and laughed to hear it.

It felt good to hear Klyn’s unforced hilarity, and to join it with my own. This was the first time I’d had a friend other than Fíli, and I liked it. I liked it very, very much.

I never wanted to go back to Thorin’s Halls. Ever.

 

* * *

 

It pained me to see Kíli withdraw into his usual silence when the Kahgli folk greeted our return to the tents. My brother had done the biggest share of averting a tragedy this morn, and he would’ve been excused from bragging if he’d chosen to do so. But he’d let Jiri speak of what happened while he’d helped to unload our ponies, rather than let the maids shower him with well-deserved admiration. I wasn’t nearly so shy about letting the maids murmur admiringly to me, but I made sure they heard plenty about Kíli’s amazing shot. When I could politely do so, I took my leave of the maids, and ran after Kíli and Klyn to do my share of pony grooming. Klyn was kind to help us, and detoured with us to the family tent so Kíli and I could retrieve our rabbit skins. After two days, they were none too savory, but Klyn assured us that we’d be able to clean them up without problem. Then Cyth took us in hand, moving our wolf carcasses downwind of the tents to gut them, then skin them with great care. Jiri came with us to work on his, and several of the clan came to tend the goat as well. It was a pleasant gathering for so much work, so the time passed companionably. Happily, Kíli enjoyed it, too, because the work took the focus rather than him.

Most of the skinning work was familiar, but Cyth and Klyn showed us how to take care for the thin skin over the wolf’s head so that we kept it intact. Caring for that part of the pelt would be tricky, but the trick was to find the right-sized smooth boulder, and stretch the curved head skin over it while we carefully scraped and conditioned.

Once we got the skins free of the carcasses, the real work began. We had to pin the skins, fur side down, to the ground, then we had to scrape all the bits of flesh off – a nasty job for the rabbit skins, given that they weren’t the freshest of hides, but absolutely essential if we wanted to make the most of the pelts. Then we had to rub the cleaned skins with a fatty paste to make them soft and pliable. Wolves are lean creatures, but their brains worked well for this paste, supplemented with a few egg yolks and some goat fat. I was gratified that so many folk took places beside Cyth, Klyn, Kíli, and me to help. By the time the rest of the clan returned from the grass for supper, we had the hides well along. We left some of the paste on the skins, then carefully covered them with cloth and lightly rolled them up so that we could leave them for the night. Tomorrow, we'd work the paste a bit more into the hide, then clean that off, and wash the skins well. That's when the real work would begin - all the softening with a bone burnisher, and various sticks or rocks. It’d take several days to work the damp hides to soften them properly, and then we'd have to smoke them over a fire to make them as waterproof as possible. It would take a lot of work, but so many of the clan assured us that we'd bless every moment we put into it come winter, when the furred skins would insulate us from the fierce cold.

Intriguingly, the clan didn’t use the wolf meat. Bones and sinews and teeth had uses – Kíli and I were told to save the molars for buttons and the canine teeth for decorations – but the meat was discarded. It wasn’t even used to feed the dogs, either wolfhound or herders. Whether that meant distain or respect, I couldn’t say.

Kíli and I were both well covered with grease, blood, and wolf bits after the afternoon’s efforts, so we joined the folk who wanted a good wash. Out here, that didn’t mean a basin and a kettle of warm water as in Maamr’s kitchen, but a bareback pony ride out to a wider bit of stream between two rises. Well on three-dozen Dwarves went, and the water was chill enough that nobody lingered long. Cyth had given Kíli and me a lump of soap and a rag to scrub off the worst of the day’s efforts. When we saw many of the Dwarves scrubbing clothing as well, we did our best on tunics, trews, socks, and smalls. It felt good to put on clean things, bundle our wet clothes into sodden balls, and ride home.

We had a big supper, and the stories of the day went back and forth around the fire. Kíli could no longer ignore folks’ congratulations and admiration for his feat, and though he was quiet, he smiled and thanked those who spoke to him with disarming humility. What would Uncle Thorin have thought when Kíli credited Jiri’s teaching for putting him at the right place and time to stop the stealthy third wolf, rather than his own expertise with his bow? Uncle was a proud Dwarf, often to the point of stubbornness, but he might’ve realized the benefit of a softer approach if he’d seen the good will Kili earned tonight.

After that, a big discussion developed about how so many of the goat dams had started to drop their kids, six today alone. That was early by Kahgli’s lights, but clearly not by the goats’. So far, the ponies hadn’t started to drop their foals, but as they were more valuable than the goats, it was important to be ready for that. After much debate and consideration, Derfrulia decided to move the camp tomorrow, two days earlier than planned, to the flat expanse of the grass that Kíli and I had seen this morn. The stone corrals there were where Kahgli penned the dams and their young at night against predation. That meant the days of games might be delayed or even canceled, because taking care of the stock took precedence. Everyone went to bed early in anticipation of getting up early tomorrow to pack the camp and move the five miles to the flat space.

Kíli and I gave one more wring to our wet clothes, then added them to the line Cyth had strung around the hearth so that the heat of the fire would dry everything by morn. That was the day’s last chore, so I was grateful to fold down cross-legged on my sleeping pad. Kíli came after me, bringing cups of tea from the hearth for us to share. He didn’t look sleepy yet, so I waited to see what he’d say after he sipped the bitter drink.

In soft tones, my brother told me about Ankulaz’s tentative acknowledgement of his greeting this morn, and about Klyn and Barkhuzi. I winced to hear the latter, not because of this new nugget about our friends, because I’d surmised as much early on. It was my brother’s discomfort about his own feelings that saddened me... no, not saddened. I was angry about the _dahaut_ my brother had endured for things that didn’t matter. He wasn’t yet nineteen, yet he was already convinced that his future held no companionship.

The Dwarves would never recover Erebor, not from an armored fire drake big enough to use the vast treasury room for a cozy den. So the likelihood of Uncle ever being king of anything was remote. Even if by some miracle that happened, I’d be the one to follow Uncle, not Kíli.

Folk of the grass were the first to treat Kíli with anything like kindness and respect, and he was a natural fit here. If he wanted to stay here forever, I’d see it done.

My resolution reminded me of another one I’d made last night, to tell Kíli about the infuriating conversation I’d had with Grun yesterday. Before Kíli finished his tea and unfolded his blankets, I leaned forward to take his empty cup.

“Do you want more tea?” I asked.

“I’ve had enough,” Kíli said comfortably, before his face spasmed with understanding. “Oh! Do you? I’ll get it.”

“Stay, brother,” I urged him. “I’m the one who wants the tea, so I’ll get it. Since I am, I’ll bring you some, too, if you want it.”

“No more for me,” he yawned. His lips quirked up in a guilty smile. “But if there’s anything left to eat at the hearth, I’ll have some of that.”

“Bottomless doh kro,” I shook my head, but when I found a basket of berry biscuits beside the fire, I brought back two as well as my tea. “Here.”

Kíli pounced on his with a gleeful squeak. “Mmm. Thanks, Fíl.”

“Welcome. So I’ve got a story to tell you, too.”

Kíli’s sharp eyes met mine. “Oh?”

I related my conversation with Grun, which interested my brother so much that he stopped chewing to mutter, “ _Gajarpan langaturz_.”

“And a _hut vaudhomuurz_ to boot,” I agreed. “He wants to drive a wedge between us, that’s clear. He tried with you, and now me.”

Kíli nibbled his biscuit, staring at nothing and stroking Alabrin’s head absently. I let him ponder as I chewed my biscuit, happy to loop an arm over Rinnala’s shoulders to hug her. But after he swallowed, my brother looked up.

“Why?” he said simply.

I’d pondered the same thing. “Maybe to start a fight between us, which makes us look bad in front of Kahgli, and keeps us from pursuing Yanna.”

A snort erupted from my brother. “We aren’t pursuing her, are we? Both Uncle and Master Dwalin told us the foolishness of that, as if I’d want to in any case.”

“Of course we aren’t, doh kro. But Clan Urghul thinks we are.”

“Clan Urghul is daft.”

“Aye, they are, and one of the ways they’re daft is to suspect us of pursuing Yanna.”

Kíli grinned. “You might not be pursuing her, but you were cooing at her well enough over breakfast this morn.”

“She’s a bonny maid. There’s no reason why I can’t talk to her over breakfast. If she didn’t like it or thought I was presumptuous, she or anyone else at the hearth would’ve had me by the scruff of the neck like a puppy, and they didn’t, did they?”

Kíli snorted again, and took another bite of his treat. “They didn’t, true enough. But if Urghul’s daft, then they might think your bit of talk to Kahgli’s heir is pursuit. I’d watch yourself outside the family tent, brother.”

“You watch yourself, too.”

“I intend to. I’ll be the best eerily fucking menace to second my brother as I can be. No one will think I’m interested in anyone, maid or lad.”

“I guess you plan to make good use of your wolf skin, and well before winter, too.”

Kíli’s smile turned gleeful again. “ _Skator_ , yah! And I’ll learn to sit Lathga so I look like I belong there, too.”

“That won’t take you long, Kíl,” I said sincerely, touched at my brother’s enthusiasm for becoming my eerie second. “You’re good already, and you’ll get better. And we know that Grun at least, if not the other two Urghuls, will try his hardest to put us at odds.”

Kíli finished the last bit of his biscuit, then met my gaze with hard eyes. “Yah, he will. But you’ve been the best brother I could ask for, and you won’t change that just because we’re out here. Whatever he says, I’ll tell you, and we’ll keep ourselves straight.”

“You’ve been the best brother I could ask for, too, and you won’t change that out here, either. And that’s a good idea to talk about whatever he says to us. He’s a devious one. Maybe the most dangerous one of the three.”

“I think so, too,” was Kíli’s immediate agreement. That meant something – my little brother had learned to assess the folk he met, at first for self-preservation, but now because he thought he should offer his best counsel to me in anticipation of one day standing beside me when Uncle died. “He’s a deep one. You’re likely right about him wanting to keep us at odds with each other, and Durin at odds with Kahgli. But I wonder if he’s got something else in his heart, too.”

“What?” I leaned forward with interest, but my brother shrugged.

“I’ve no idea. But snakes look for their prey low, and vultures have the best noses for dead meat, no matter how well hidden. Life in Clan Urghul can’t be anything but intrigue. It’d make sense for Grun to have something else to gnaw on.”

I snickered. “I thought you slept through all those boring lectures Master Balin gave us about Dwarvish court intrigue.”

“Not all of them,” Kíli grinned.

“Clearly not.” I patted Rinnala and lay down. “So we’ll keep close watch, both of us.”

Kíli got his blankets, gave Alabrin and Mhornar each an affectionate pat goodnight, and lay down between them. “Aye, we will. Starting tomorrow. I’m too knackered for anything but sleep tonight.”

“Me, too. Sleep well, brother.”

“You, too, Fíl.”

Kíli rolled himself in his blankets, and shut his eyes with a sigh. Our talk had been a reassuring way to end the day, so I pulled my blankets close, gave Rinnala’s ear a gentle tug, and shut my eyes. Further intrigue would have to wait until the morn.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Kíli discusses wolf hunting with an Urghul second, Fíli pursues his own conversation with Urghul's heir... which turns into a chess game.

Fíli woke me with a low murmur and a shake of my leg. I’d been hard asleep, but I didn’t curse or snap at my brother for calling me so abruptly. For whatever reason, my legs and hips didn’t ache badly, and while I was hungry, at least nothing but my stomach cried out for attention. I sat up with a smile of relief to stretch and pull on my smalls.

“What’re you so cheerful about?” Fíli eyed me with suspicion. “It’s damned early, brother.”

“Is it?” I asked. “Doesn’t matter. My legs don’t hurt so much for once, and that’s worth a smile.

“They don’t?” Fíli’s expression came to mirror mine. “ _Skator_ , Kíl – that’s grand. Maybe you’ve stopped growing for a bit.”

“Maybe. Even if I haven’t, it’s good not to ache so much. Um... what are you doing?”

Fíli had all of the stuff out of his pack, down to the last item. To reinforce that, he upended his empty pack and shook it, then snorted in exasperation. “I need my sewing kit. I know I put it in here. I must be looking right at it.”

“We decided we’d do with just my sewing kit and your sharpening kit, remember? So we’d have more room for whatever.”

Fíli tsked at his forgetfulness. “Aye, you’re right. Is yours at hand? I caught my trews on a bramble yesterday, and I want to mend the rip before we get underway today, or it’ll ravel into a bigger mess.”

When I reached for my pack, both Mhornar and Alabrin nosed me, whining for their breakfast. I gave each of them a good scrub of the ears. “Hold for just a few minutes, please? For I need to mend my trews, too, or someone will comment about the state of my smalls, and I’d never live that down.”

I upended my pack, scattering stuff everywhere. Fíli eyed the lot, then leaned forward to pick something out of the muddle and hold it up. “Did you bring... a book?”

I snickered. “Course I did, do kro. When have you known me to be without one?”

“When exactly did you expect to have time to read it?” Fíli demanded.

“Maybe I won’t.” I took the ragged thing out of Fíli’s hands, plunked it down atop my winter trousers, and gave it a pat. “But if I do, I’ll be ready. It’s my favorite.”

Fíli snorted. “What, that old book of tales you nicked from Master Balin?”

“I didn’t nick it. He took pity on me for reading it so often that he gave it to me.”

My brother shook his head. “He didn’t need to. You’ve had it memorized for years.”

“I don’t care. They’re still good tales, even the Elvish ones.”

"Yah, they are," Fíli was forced to admit.

I rooted through my tangle of things until I found the sewing kit. “Thread me a needle, too, Fíl?”

“Course. You made a right shred of yourself, crawling after that kid yesterday.”

I grinned. “My tunic more than my trews, but I got the wee thing. Good thing, too – she’d wedged herself in the brambles so badly that she would never have gotten herself out.”

Fíli threaded our needles, and we both spent a few minutes darning the holes the brambles had made. Cyth came over to wake us, saw our stuff scattered about and us sewing away, and nodded in approval.

“Smart,” she agreed. “Before the rips get any worse. You may not appreciate that so much right now with the morn’s rush, but you will tonight. You start the day with small tears and you’ll end it tonight with big ones, and plenty more mending to do.”

“Master Dwalin taught us that, too,” Fíli nodded, stitching away. “Easy to do now, hard to do later.”

“Wise Master Dwalin,” Cyth grinned. “I’ll bring you lads your porridge to save you a bit of time. Everyone’s rousing.”

“Thank you, Cyth,” I hummed, because my stomach was so empty. I put aside my tunic to stack the rest of my clothing in one rough pile, and everything else in another, so we’d have room to put our bowls. Fíli did the same thing, so we had more than enough room to plunk down Cyth’s porridge bowls and a dish of biscuits. We gulped down her offerings eagerly as we sewed, and soon we pulled on our mended clothes. We left our repacking to dash out to the necessary, then feed our patient dogs. We chatted briefly with the other hunters and their dogs as we doled out rations to Alabrin, Rinnala, and Mhornar – they’d learned to happily take food from either Fíli or me, which sped things a bit – but didn’t linger. Already folk were astir, readying themselves for the big move. We hurried back to the tent for breakfast, listened to Derfrulia, Yanna, and Merruli organize the day’s efforts, then repacked our scattered things. Despite the rush, both Fíli and I took pains to fold things small, so our packs were the smallest bundles possible. Cyth gave us rags to wrap around our unfinished skins, which we’d stow on our saddles once we got our ponies. Then out we went to help dismantle the tents.

By now, Fíli and I were well familiar with what needed to be done to snug everything from tents and tools into bundles and bales, so we sent our dogs off with Vikken and jumped into the effort. The smallest tents came down first – Klyn’s and Barkhuzi’s was one of those, and so was the supply tent. After that came the tents that housed the rest of the hunters and herders, and finally Derfrulia’s family tent. The clan matriarch sent us off with her usual blunt words, which made me grin as the mast came down, and we were off once again.

I ended up near Barkhuzi as we rode, so I asked him why the clan used the wide, flat expanse as the base for the main Kahgli tent. “I thought you liked the western side of the rises, to protect against the weather.”

“We do in the colder months, aye,” the red-haired Dwarf agreed. He was in the midst of wrapping his head cloth around his hair, so guided his pony with only his legs in an enviable example of his expertise aback a pony. He took up the reins without the pony being the wiser. “The winds are sharper then, and the snow, when we get it, is thick. But in the warmer weather, it’s better not living on a slant. That can be a right mess if we get a spring or summer gale, because the rain washes down the rises like rivers, and deluges everything in its path. We’ve built up the bases for the tents on the flat to keep them out of the water if it comes, so unless the worst of Morgoth comes down upon us, we weather it well.”

“Do you think we’ll have to cancel the games? I’d looked forward to them.”

“I hope not entirely, but yah, we’ll not have the several days of them, not when the goats have decided to drop their kids early. We’ll barely have time for your archers’ lessons, maybe, though I do hope we have those. Any improvement on our skills to discourage the wolves is welcome. Klyn said that you put your arrow right through your wolf’s ribs, and Jiri said he didn’t hear either the wolf or your shot at all. And Fíli said you had no warning before you shot. How did you do it? Did you sight the wolf, or the tip of your arrow, or the distance to where you thought the wolf would jump?”

“I didn’t do any of those,” I confessed. “The wolf appeared from the thicket all at once, without a sound, and... I just... shot. I don’t remember doing even that much, to be honest. I just... did it.”

“Lots of training with your Master Dwalin, then,” Barkhuzi nodded sagely. His eyes held mine for a brief but intent second before he gave a considering shrug. “Still, even with all that training, it’s clear you’ve got a touch of Oromë about you.”

My eyebrows all but disappeared into my hair – me, like Oromë, the great Hunter of the Valar? Legend said that he alone of all the Valar still walked the deepest wilds of Middle Earth, indulging his deepest love for and great skill at the hunt, even to the firedrakes in the far northern wastes. Many a time had I heard Masters Dwalin and Balin call Oromë down on the firedrake that had laid waste to Erebor. I drew breath to protest –

Barkhuzi gave me a sober look. He cut his eyes to his right. He winked.

Kazunki appeared just behind my friend, just off his right shoulder.

A grin was not the best reply I could have made. I should have mustered a thoughtful and mysterious air and a deep look. But I was eighteen, and I hadn’t pranked anyone for weeks, not even my brother. So I hoped Oromë, Mahal, and all the rest of the Valar forgave my gleeful expression. I met Kazunki’s eyes and offered a friendly hand.

“Good morn, Kazunki. Barkhuzi’s offering me fine advice about wolf hunting, as I have much to learn. Maybe you have sage words for me, too?”

From what little I’d seen since the Urghul Dwarves had joined us, Kazunki’s expression rarely changed. I can’t say that it changed now, either. But whether Kazunki dismissed Barkhuzi’s words out of hand, or stowed them away to consider later, wasn’t important. The important bit was that Barkhuzi had just planted the next seed in my campaign to become Fíli’s eerily fucking menace of a second.

Ah, that snapped things into focus, didn’t it? I knew quite a lot about the time-honored practice of pulling an epic prank. The best pranks called for patience and long, careful setup, with a hint here, or a deflection there. When my mother or Uncle was involved, it also called for a steady expression that never hinted at whatever I was up to. Now was no different; I plastered an interested expression on my face and waited for Kazunki to reply.

The Urghul Dwarf drew his pony up even with ours. “Good morn to you both, Barkhuzi and Kíli. I fear I have little advice to offer you to improve on such a shot, Kíli, if it happened as I have heard. It was a mighty effort.”

His demeanor wasn’t wary or sneering, and he seemed to accept whatever he’d heard about my shot without question. He reinforced his words with a shrug, as if that was that.

In reply, I shrugged, too. “It was shooting in a split second, which I’ve been trained to do. I was mostly glad to be so close to Jiri so that I stopped the wolf from hurting him or his pony. But there was no wolf hunting in it, which I have _not_ been trained to do, so I need to learn that. Maybe if I’d seen the wolf ahead of time, or directed my dogs better, I wouldn’t have had to rely on shooting in a split second. I don’t want to keep giving the wolf all the advantages because I think I can stop him at the last moment. That won’t always work.”

That went around in Kazunki’s thoughts for a bit before he nodded. “Aye, that’s a sound point.”

“So Barkhuzi’s telling me how to stalk the wolves before I have to shoot them. You’re from north of here, but surely the wolves are as much a problem for your folk. So if you have any words of advice about hunting them, or at least spotting them before the last moment, I’d be grateful for them.”

“So would I,” Barkhuzi interjected. “I fostered with Clan Distin, the saddle makers, so I’m out here to tend our rigging and so forth, as well as watch for the wolves. So you’ve likely a lot more experience than either Kíli or I have. If you’d been in Kíli’s place, would you have raced after Jiri, or kept your eyes on the thicket?”

A direct question rolled around in Kazunki’s thoughts with no less deliberation than my explanation, but at length he offered a few words. “Our northernmost thickets aren’t so thick as those here, so the wolves are easier to see. But the southernmost ones... aye, they’re as thick. Sometimes all you see is a small leaf move, or a shadow shift. ‘Tis better to look from the side rather than the front to see such things when you have the chance. But at speed, as you were, aye, all you can do is keep one eye on the thicket and the other on what you pursue. ‘Tis not easy.”

Perhaps that broke the ice. Kazunki asked how I held my bow, and Barkhuzi wanted to know how many fingers I used to pull back the string, and both were interested in whether I kept my arrow nocked or just in place by the grip of my bow. We even got to the point where all three of us had our bows in hand to demonstrate one grip or another. Kazunki’s bow was not a showy weapon, but it was stout and well made, and I was interested in the thin leather he’d wrapped on the grip. Then we got into how to sit a pony when shooting at speed, and both Dwarves offered me suggestions to help me keep my upper body steady as the pony ran beneath me. So it was a useful as well as an enjoyable conversation.

We might’ve talked longer if Ankulaz and Grun hadn’t called to Kazunki as they rode by. Kazunki rejoined his mates without a word to us, but as he was a Dwarf with no love for unnecessary words, I took no offense. Ankulaz seemed to regard Barkhuzi and me with a considering look, and Grun’s face wore the same half smile that masked who knew what underneath. I offered a smile and wave in return and hoped that my expression looked more sincere than Grun’s did.

“That went well enough,” I murmured to Barkhuzi.

My friend grunted noncommittally. “It’s a right awkward mess, it is.”

“How do you mean?”

“Kahgli’s not used to so much tiptoeing around the tents.” Barkhuzi kept his eyes outward, as outliers were supposed to do when we traveled, but maybe he kept one eye on the three Urghuls at the same time. “You and Fíli are in the family tent, so you likely got the same stern lecture that the rest of us did about not giving Urghul any reason to cry foul of us, or we’ll never get rid of them after the required three months. I say, better we have it out and everyone knows where everyone stands, than cover it up like snow over thin ice. But Gabilmaamr leads Kahgli, not me, so I sit on my hands like everyone else.”

My frown was mystified. “Derfrulia didn’t give Fíli or me a lecture about anything, but I guess that what you just said was the sum of it.”

“Hmm. Maybe Derfrulia decided that the king’s clan is better schooled than the rest of us about the perils of such things, and decided you didn’t need the lecture, but that seems unlikely, no matter how well you’ve been schooled. Ah, I have it – the Kahgli clan beads, of course. She gave you and Fíli younger son status to mark you as protected, which tells everyone, but especially Urghul, that you and your brother are too young to get embroiled in a fight between clans, especially those you’re not aligned with.”

I groped for the braid by my right ear, and waved the end of it at him. “I’m just the spare, not the heir, but I know what wearing a clan bead means. As far as I’m concerned, I _am_ aligned with Clan Kahgli, and proudly so. Fíli feels the same way. So did Derfrulia tell all of Kahgli just to be polite and not cause trouble, or was there more to it than that?”

“Aye, it’s only fair that you know,” Barkhuzi gave a pull to his mustaches as if he’d settled some longstanding internal debate. “The words were just as I told you. But did you notice that all of the Urghul’s mentors are senior, respected elders who can’t be gainsaid?”

I nodded. “I did.”

“Did you also notice where the Urghuls put their blankets?”

This time, I shook my head. “I didn’t. I was relieved that they weren’t in the family tent, and thought nothing more of it.”

“Oh, that’d be a right declaration, wouldn’t it, to have Urghul’s blankets beside those of Kahgli’s matriarch and heir? Almost a formal declaration of alliance, right there, and wouldn’t Urghul try to make the most of that? It’d be no better to put them in my tent, because mine houses the youngest of the clan, including me, the youngest contract hunters, including Klyn, and a pair of senior hunters, to pass on the lore to us. If you and your brother weren’t so young, you might’ve come in with us, which would have been grand. But to put the Urghuls in there would have invited them to preside over the tent, and we can’t have that. So they’re in the tent with senior hunters and herders who outrank them. If that doesn’t smack of keeping the reins on the three of them, I don’t know what does.”

I grimaced. “Valar... I thought I’d get away from all clan intrigue when I came out here. I was wrong.”

Barkhuzi laughed. “Normally, you would. There’s another thing to blame on Tobazel and his posturing. The rest of us like that shit no more than you. So you see a lot of such things in Thorin’s Halls?”

“Fíli does more than I do,” I conceded. “Mostly it’s silly maids and whatever they think might come of marrying the Heir of Durin. My brother says it’s a lot like being treated like a slab of mutton up for auction. I want no part of that.”

Blessedly, Barkhuzi didn’t ask more about that, so the talk drifted to other things. Klyn and Fíli came over to gather us for another riding lesson, which was pure pleasure. Klyn showed us the trick to stand atop our saddles, which wasn’t so hard when the pony stayed still, but when it moved, that was a far harder skill. We’d need time to master that, but Klyn assured me that it’d become second nature before long.

Rations went around when the sun was highest, but the clan kept moving. It’d take a good long stretch to get the summer camp up and settled, and everyone wanted lots of daylight to do so. In anticipation of supper, Vikken, Jiri, and several hunters mustered their dogs as well as all the unattached ones. As they rode by with Ankulaz and his two seconds in tow, I swallowed a bout of envy. What fun it would be to join them –

“Barkhuzi! Klyn! Fíli! Kíli! You’re with us!” Jiri waved as he rode past.

“Yah!” I whooped so enthusiastically that my pony snorted and gave a little jink. She snorted again when I urged her after the hunters, shouting for Mhornar and Alabrin to race after me. My brother and our friends called to their dogs with just as much enthusiasm, and were quickly beside me.

It was a fine spring day, I was with friends, and we were off to provide a fine supper for our clan. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend the afternoon.

 

* * *

 

Kíli wasn’t the only Durin brother to venture a conversation with an Urghul Dwarf this morn, but I pursued mine where Kíli fell into his by chance. As soon as he and Barkhuzi drew Kazunki beside them, I looked around for Grun and Ankulaz. Perfect – the ever-smiling Grun wasn’t smiling quite so much as he attended the words of his mentor. So where was Ankulaz? Likely attending a similar lesson from Kheluz. But no, the Urghul heir rode ahead of me alone, so before anyone else rode up beside him, I did.

I did so warily, I admit. Yanna’s story of her mother’s death and the role Clan Urghul might’ve played in it were daunting. But Kíli wasn’t the only one who’d stayed awake during Master Balin’ tales of intrigue, subterfuge, and malice, some with so many twists and turns in them that who I thought was the dragon of the tale sometimes ended up being the dragon slayer.

So what should I make of Naggrundaz, who had tried to drive a wedge between my little brother and me? He didn’t seem to be either a dragon or a dragon slayer, but the snake Kíli had named him.

Maybe he was a snake. The interesting question was... why had he bothered with us?

The more I thought about it, the more questions it raised.

Was it really to make us look too stupid for Kahgli to consider us for alliance? That made no sense – we were far too young for anyone to consider us seriously.

Was it just petty malice? Kíli and I had met many in Thorin’s Halls who loved to create a stir, then sit back and laugh at the squabble they left in their wake. Maybe Grun was one such. It was hard to know for sure, when we hadn’t heard him speak a word to anyone else.

We hadn’t heard much out of Kazunki or Ankulaz, either.

All we knew was what Yanna had told us, and she was hardly an unbiased source, because it was her mother who had died. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe her, but she hadn’t been with her mother when she’d been killed, and no one had been with Ankulaz or Tobazel at the same time, either.

What was it that Master Balin had drummed into my head about any conflict, even one that seemed so straightforward as to be blindingly obvious? I could see him standing before me with his hands on his hips and feet planted solidly on the library floor planks, shaking his head when I couldn’t make head or tales from one of his stories.

 _Who stood to gain, Fíli?_ he’d ask. His knuckles would rap the table in front of me to emphasize his question. _Who stood to gain?_

So who stood to gain by keeping Kahgli and Urghul at each other’s throats?

I had no idea.

That’s when another of Balin’s old adages came to mind – _keep your friends close, and your enemies closer_.

The only Clan Urghul Dwarf Kíli and I had heard from was Grun. Since Kíli was talking to Kazunki, that left Ankulaz to me. I had no idea how to start a conversation with him, but I’d do my best.

“Good morn, Ankulaz,” I nodded, as I came up on the Urghul heir’s left. He rode on the left side of the caravan, so if I came up on his left side, he might think I was just moving forward to take up an outlier’s spot nearer the front of the procession. I nodded politely as I guided my pony past him.

The heir’s eyes fell upon me with a suspicious frown. “What is it?”

I raised my eyebrows. “What is what?”

“You spoke to me. What do you want?”

“Um... to wish you a good morn,” I shrugged, ignoring the brusque tone. “Perhaps customs are different between clans. I was raised to offer a polite greeting when I passed folk older than I. It’s considered the height of rudeness not to. So as I prefer not to be rude, I spoke to you as I passed, just as I do to most of the folk here, as most of them are older than me. That’s all.”

Ankulaz’s frown faded into inscrutability. “Ah. I... thank you, then.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Your brother has been raised likewise?”

I nodded, slowing my pony to keep pace with Ankulaz’s mount. “Oh, yes. Our mother has very definite views on such things. For all she swears that both my brother’s head and mine are made of the hardest granite, we both give her lessons the attention she insists they deserve.”

My blithe attempt at humor passed Ankulaz without getting a reaction. “So that is why he spoke to me this morn.”

“Oh, did he? Well, if he passed you between the tents, then of course. He offered the same courtesy.”

“Hmm.” Ankulaz mulled that. I tried not to stare, but as I glanced at the Urghul heir, he seemed to mull a game of chess more than a conversation with a young Dwarf. I kept my expression unconcerned, and looked out across the grass.

“Your brother is hot-tempered.”

I kept my expression neutral. “Is he?”

“He shot at my father.”

“Ah. That. Well, that comes back to the way we’ve been raised, too.”

“How so?”

“That deference to our elders, you see? It’s been drilled into us both. Uncle Thorin’s stern and stubborn at times, but he’s a strong ruler, a fair ruler, and he works hard for our people, regardless of clan. Kíli and I honor that, and him. So when your father tried to provoke Derfrulia with... ill-advised words about Uncle, Kíli took it upon himself to defend Uncle’s name.”

“By shooting at him.”

Well, yes, Kíli had shot at the leader of another clan. I wasn’t going to apologize for that, so I’d have to brass it out. I mustered a tolerant grin.

“Your father was a bit pointed, wasn’t he? So Kíli was a bit pointed in return. My brother doesn’t miss a target as close as your father was to him, so your father was in no danger.”

“You rebuked him for it.”

A glance at Ankulaz told me that he wasn’t particularly angry about Kíli’s shot. Who knew – maybe he’d have rejoiced if Kíli had hit his blustery father so that he’d never provoke anyone again. So... what was this conversation about?

Oh, Valar – Ankulaz cared about rules. Not just any rules – the protocol, the etiquette, the chess game that was clan intrigue.

Now I knew how to answer.

“I did. I’m my Uncle’s heir; Kíli’s my second. If a rebuke was called for, I was the one to call it, not Kíli.”

“And would you have?”

I looked Ankulaz right in the eye. “I rebuked my brother for the lapse in protocol, not the act itself.”

Ankulaz held my gaze, but I didn’t back down. Sooner than I expected, he nodded. “He offered to forgive readily enough.”

“As he’d been taught.”

Ankulaz nodded again. “You both have forgotten as you promised, for you both have offered courtesy to me as you do other folk.”

His thoughtful expression seemed to say that the chess game had resolved to his satisfaction, whether he liked the sides that had made up the game or not. Could I nudge him towards resolving a bit more?

“Makes sense, yes? Something lies between your father and Derfrulia, that’s clear, but it’s something Clan Durin has no part of. So Urghul and Durin have no reason to offer each other anything but courtesy. Kíli and I are here to work, to earn our way in the world, and nothing else. The only things I’m here to fight are wolves.”

Footsteps approached behind me – Grun was hastening to Ankulaz’s side. There wasn’t anything I wanted to say to him, so I offered a polite nod to the heir, and circled my pony towards the back of the caravan. Ankulaz and Grun sped forward, collecting Kazunki from his conversation with my brother and Barkhuzi.

What grist had I given Urghul’s mill?


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An antelope hunt takes an ominous turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> Doktanz = Dancing Eye (Dwarvish)
> 
> Buzkashi is a real game played on the steppes of several countries in our world. I thought our Dwarvish friends would enjoy the mayhem with great enthusiasm :-)

_EARLIER THAT MORN_

_“What are you doing? Those are the Durins’ packs.”_

_He flinched at the unexpected voice, but swallowed his curse. He should have paid closer attention to who was around him. “They’re to be loaded on the ponies with the rest of the packs, aren’t they? So in the interest of good clan relations, I’m loading them onto the pack ponies.”_

_“Untouched?”_

_“Of course not.” He hefted the pack belonging to the dark-haired gangrel onto the pack pony with exaggerated care and lashed it into place. “I’m not the magician you seem to think the younger Durin is. I actually have to use my hands when I work.”_

_“There’s been too much dark magic laid to your hands too many times. No good comes of it.”_

_“Dark magic isn’t real.”_

_“Yes, it is.”_

_He chuckled. “I’ll tell you what’s real – the power of drink. Nothing muddles thoughts and blurs memories as well as too much ale, especially when a young Dwarf far from his majority is fool enough to overindulge. There’s no sorting out what happens after that.”_

_Only a silent retreat met his assertion._

_He regarded the retreating back thoughtfully before he hefted the pack that belonged to the Durin heir._

_As he lashed the pack securely in place, he mulled._

_* * *_

 

No sooner had I looped away from Ankulaz than I found Klyn trailing the Urghul heir at a discreet distance. When I drew my pony around, Klyn hung back to let me fall in beside him.

“All right, Fíl?” he asked quietly, as his face waxed with concern.

“All right,” I agreed.

“What did you talk about?” he asked curiously.

My grin held traces of incredulity. “The protocol behind wishing one a good morn.”

Klyn’s jaw dropped. “Mahal! Is there any?”

“More than I expected,” I admitted ruefully.

Klyn’s snort was mystified. “ _Skator_ , Fíli. This is all too fiddly for me.”

“Me, too. What I need is a nice, straightforward riding lesson to set me right again.”

“Ponies aren’t so subtle,” Klyn exhaled. “When they don’t like you, they just bite – none of this fiddling stuff. Why can’t folk act likewise?”

I exhaled, agreeing with my friend’s assessment. “The Valar know, I’d guess, but I don’t. Maybe Urghul and Kahgli have clashed for so long that neither knows how to do any different. We’re stubborn folk, no matter the clan.”

“You’d know that better than we, and we know it in our bones,” Klyn shook his head. “Come on, we’ll get Khuzi and Kíl, and have a romp around the grass.”

“Perfect,” I agreed.

We collected Klyn’s mate and my brother, and had a high old time with a few of the other younger Dwarves who wanted the excuse to race around after one another. Our dogs had a fine time of it, too, chasing each other and us as we ran to and fro. Despite our delight in trying to learn how to stand on our ponies’ back without pitching ourselves on our heads, we were mindful of the dogs, so didn’t let them run themselves into collapse. When rations went around from hand to hand, Kíli got down from his pony to call Alabrin and Mhornar to his side, and walked with them for a while until they topped panting so. Many of the other hunters did likewise, so I followed suit. Before long, I’d think nothing of spending all day and all night in my saddle, but for the moment, it was good to stretch my legs after riding so hard.

After our noon meal, several more of the herders peeled off right and left. They’d been doing that all morn, but this was the first time I’d registered it; everything was so new to me out here that I still hadn’t learned to make sense of everything I saw yet. When I asked Drekkani about it, he explained that the herders would look for pregnant goats and ponies, and bring them along. That meant that the clan could concentrate their searches ahead of us once we got to camp, rather than having to backtrack over ground we covered today. We’d keep the dams close in tall stone pens until they dropped their kids, and the newborns were able to keep up with the herd.

Not long after, Jiri called my brother, our two friends, and me to help with the day’s antelope hunt, which elated Kíli so much that he took off after Jiri with a whoop. I raced after him and the other hunters with no less excitement. Yes, Ankulaz and his two seconds were part of the dozen hunters and five herders that raced ahead of the caravan, but in the middle of so many, there would be little that they could do to cause trouble to any of us. In addition to the dozen Kahgli hunters and herders, Kíli and me, and the three Urghuls, we had five of the unattached wolfhounds, so we were in good company. Klyn got two of the extras to manage, mute testimony to his expertise, and so did Jiri.

The fifth extra dog went to Kíli. So while it was telling that none of the extra dogs went to the Urghuls, it was just as telling that one went to my little brother.

I steadfastly refused to be envious... but I was, a little.

An hour’s brisk trot took us past the flat area where the clan would settle tonight, this time we hoped for the rest of the summer. I saw no sign of previous encampments yet, but given that Jiri steered us northwest across the expanse, Kahgli’s summer camp must be in that direction. Different plants swathed this stretch of ground, mostly knee-high grasses. The growth was recent, because it was the bright, glowing, pale green that heralded spring. Spring pony grass green, the clan called it, because the ponies loved to gorge themselves on the new shoots – many of them dotted the flat expanse in mute testimony to the accuracy of the name. Antelope were intermixed between the ponies, but they warily moved off as we approached, where the ponies paid us little mind. No goats appeared, and I understood why immediately – they didn’t eat the spring pony grass. We’d have to comb the western sides of the surrounding rises to find them, because that’s where their fodder grew.

I allowed myself a grin. I had mountains of things left to learn, but at least I’d fathomed one bit of the rhythm of the grass, and that made me happy.

Barkhuzi saw me smiling, and gave me his own grin when I explained my humble accomplishment. “No, that’s grand, Fíli! You’ve sorted it out exactly right. So tell me this: how are we to have a successful hunt for our supper when the ponies and the antelopes are intermixed here because they both eat the same thing?”

I thought about that, and looked out over the flat expanse again, and the answer was right in front of me – or part of it was. “Um, the ponies like this flat bit, don’t they? And they don’t run from us, but the antelope do. So do we shoo the antelope off this flat bit before we pursue them?”

“Exactly!” Barkhuzi leaned over to give me a heavy clap on the back. “And since the ponies like the grass on the flat bit so much, they end up collecting themselves for us, so that means we collect the dams with a lot less work.”

“Yah, then we can spend all the effort we save on the ponies to collect the goats,” Klyn rolled his eyes. “They’re a right nuisance, they are. The wool’s their only saving grace!”

“I saw one this morn with horns this wide across!” Kíli measured a distance of about three feet wide with his hands. “A fierce dam she was, for all she just looked at me. I don’t imagine she’s easy to herd, whether by dog, Dwarf, or wolf.”

“Be glad they’re mostly the herder dogs’ problems,” Barkhuzi chortled. “But you’ll have your chance to deal with them before long. Between wolves, weather, and wiry weeds, every steppe goat of is a force of nature.”

“The dams aren’t so bad as the sires,” Klyn offered. “This’ll help when you have to encourage a dam to follow you. Just take the kid on your pony with you, and the dam follows right along.”

“If you can get the kid away from the dam in the first place,” Barkhuzi teased. “That’s when you find out two things, Fíli – how fast a goat dam can charge, and how hard she can butt you into the grass.”

“That’s why you don’t get off your pony when you snatch up the kid, pony boy!” Klyn laughed. “You just lean over the side. Show them, Khuzi!”

Barkhuzi leaned so far over in the saddle that his hand was just inches from the ground, all without slowing his pony from her trot.

“That’s amazing!” Kíli announced.

“Yah, Khuzi’s one of the best _buzkashi_ players,” Klyn said proudly. “That’s one of our favorite games. You get two teams of riders, and a dead goat, which is called the _buz_. Each side tries to snatch the _buz_ and toss it into the other team’s home circle. You need to be well padded, because if you’ve got the _buz_ , the other side does its damnedest to take it away – shoving, kicking, no end of havoc. If you get knocked off your pony, you have to drop the _buz_. You’re better served to drop the _buz_ before you get knocked off, because with all the kicking and thumping and stamping ponies, you risk death and destruction.”

“So total mayhem,” I said, grinning.

“Yah!” Klyn cheered. “It’s the best fun!”

Kíli and I laughed at our friends’ enthusiasm for their game, but before they could tell us more, we came to the edge of the flat expanse. As the herders and their smaller dogs raced ahead, Jiri called the rest of us close to set the hunting duties. As before, the herders would range a mile or two ahead, turn a good number of antelope back towards us. When they reached us his time, however, we wouldn’t circle them; instead, we’d funnel them into a deeper cleft between the rises that was heavy with brush. We’d form a semicircle around them, and be able to take them at our leisure because the brush was too thick to let them slip through. Even so, we got the admonition to shoot low, and nowhere near a dog or a Dwarf. So we hurried towards the deep dip that Jiri wanted, found a relatively briar-free place to scrape through, and ranged ourselves atop the next rise to watch for the hunters.

We had no time for talking and laughing now. We separated into two groups about three hundred feet apart, and arranged ourselves in lines from the top of the ridge to the bottom. With any luck, the herders would drive the antelope between our lines, then we’d close the semicircle to begin our hunt. At the top of the rise, Jiri and Arkhanneh were alert on the horizon, waiting for the first glimpse of fleeing antelopes with Dwarves in close pursuit. I was in the left line, with Kíli one Dwarf away on my left, with Barkhuzi two to his left; Klyn was one Dwarf away on my right. The Urghuls were in the right line, alternated with experienced Kahgli hunters.

Perhaps twenty or thirty minutes passed before Jiri and Arkhanneh waved, meaning they saw the flitting grey-brown shadows that were the antelopes, then the herders and their leaping dogs behind. Immediately, the line of hunters notched arrows, called to their dogs, and shortened their reins. We were ready to trap our prey between us and the dense thicket –

“They’ve turned!” Jiri shouted, pointing east. “Look lively! We’ll try to circle them!”

So much for careful planning. I kept my bow in my hand as I urged my pony up the rise with the rest of the hunters. Rinnala was right beside me, floating uphill like a creamy cloud, laughing at my straining pony that didn’t have such an easy time of her ascent. As I crested the rise, I spotted the antelope far ahead of us on the next rise with the herders in pursuit, but we struggled to close the gap by staying atop the rise.

“Follow Jiri!” Barkhuzi shouted to me, pointing to the senior hunter as he sent his pony plunging down the rise at a headlong pace.

What? Go down the rise? Why?

Oh, that’s why – a break in the thicket below would let us pass through with less delay. My pony dove after Kíli’s, and both of us crashed through the briars, vaulted the seeping stream, and raced after the master hunter. Around us, dogs and ponies careened at full speed, racing to catch up to the antelope on the rise above us. I couldn’t see the herders, but I heard their dogs in full voice, so they raced out of sight on the other side of the rise. If we could get one or two Dwarves ahead of the antelope on both sides of the rise, then we would have the chance to form our circle. If not, then we’d have to let the wolfhounds rest before the herders set out again to find another herd, which meant we’d be late back to the rest of the clan with supper, and late helping them to set up the tents. So I sucked another lungful of air down and hoped we were fast enough.

Barkhuzi and Klyn raced ahead of us, with Kíli not far behind. Klyn and my brother were by far the lightest, and Barkhuzi was such a skilled rider, that they outstripped the rest of us. It was Barkhuzi who finally got his dog close enough to make the lead antelope jink down the other side of the rise with the rest behind him. But the herders had managed to put their dogs en masse right in the antelopes’ path, which pitched the antelope into chaos. Kíli’s urgent calls to his three dogs helped to further panic them, and hunters, herders, and dogs converged as the small creatures tried to dart back the way they’d come. We formed a circle of perhaps two hundred feet across, and bent our bows on our targets.

Unlike the previous hunt, this one was much more frantic and disjointed. For one thing, many more antelope were trapped in our circle. For another, so many antelopes, ponies, and dogs kicked up a hellacious dust storm almost too thick to see through. Deprived of sight, the antelope herd disintegrated into a throng of single animals, each desperate to escape in any direction possible. It was as if someone had dropped a bag of beads that went zinging and bouncing every which way. I managed to drop two, but several got past me because I didn’t dare risk letting an arrow fly too high, perhaps to strike a Dwarf or a dog on the opposite side of the circle. The wolfhounds seemed to sense that danger, for they mostly ranged very near the riders, not within the circle to any distance, though that didn’t seem to bother the herder dogs. Valar, was this chaos a pale intimation of what war was like, with all the darting and shouting and flying arrows –

Rinnala howled just in front of me. Her creamy coat was slashed with red down her left flank –

Before I could call to her, my pony, anyone, an arrow flickered past my right ear. It was almost silent, but the puff of air and the yank of hair sliced on the edge of the tip marked its passing plainly enough.

My dog and I looked nothing like antelopes, but someone thought we made good targets, nevertheless.

 

* * *

 

I didn’t see the arrow that streaked red across Rinnala’s pale fur, but I saw the one flying towards my brother very well. Oh, Valar, Valar, my brother was about to be shot right in front of me –

“Fíli!” I howled. My eyes must have looked like saucers as I willed the arrow to just miss my brother’s pale hair. Master Dwalin’s lessons took over as I swept the grass, looking for anyone about to let loose another arrow at my brother. “Fíli! Get down! Get down!”

As Fíli bolted off his pony, I rode up beside him, sandwiching him between his mount and mine. I left him to grasp the saddlecloths of both ponies to keep them side-by-side, because I’d found a potential target directly across the circle from us – a Dwarf aback a furiously bucking pony. The pony was too frantic to control – his rider lost his bow in midair, landed badly on his face, and made a mad scramble away from flying hooves. But that put him in the path of another pony, which ran over him before his rider could flinch. I didn’t hear the impact over the frantic noise of the hunt, but seeing the impact was terrible enough.

The fallen Dwarf was Kazunki.

Too many bodies still careened along the rise, but Fíli was intent on nothing but Rinnala, struggling unsuccessfully to get to her feet. When she tried to crawl to my brother, he slithered under my pony and dashed out to her.

“Fíli! No!”

Despite my screams, Fili dodged ponies and antelopes to reach his injured queen, then get her into his arms. I grabbed the reins to Fíli’s horse and drove it and mine forward to shield Fili, shouting to Mhornar, Alabrin, and Doktanz, the unattached dog, all of which snapped and dove at the antelope hurtling around us. I couldn’t help Fíli get his dog over his saddle, because we were still in the midst of the hunt, and antelope threatened to crash into us with every second that passed. Oh, Mahal, Rinnala lay across the pony’s back like a limp rag! I tore my attention back to the antelope, shooting every one that careened too near. Good, Fíli had his bow in hand again, and joined me in picking off the antelope. Fíli finally hauled himself aboard his pony, shifting Rinnala atop his legs. Thank the Valar we’d paid attention to what Barkhuzi had told us about guiding our ponies only with our legs, because that helped us get out of the circle. I kept shooting as I called to Alabrin, Mhornar, and Doktanz – even to me, my voice sounded more shriek than anything else, because I was desperate to get the dogs out of the circle with us. By the time we got all of us out, the hunt was in disarray as more and more Dwarves realized that something was wrong. The remaining antelope vanished over the grass as folk came to a standstill.

“Fíli! What in Mahal happened?” Klyn gasped as he pulled his pony up short beside us. Behind him, Barkhuzi got Kazunki’s pony in tow to stop her from running amok. “ _Skator_ , Rinnala! How badly is she hurt?”

He vaulted from his pony and flung out his arms to Fíli, urging my brother to ease Rinnala off his saddle. Fíli did, but vaulted off right after, so worried was he at his queen’s agonized whines as he and Klyn laid her on the grass. I, however, stayed mounted with my bow still on guard. Now that we were out of harm’s way, my terror boiled into fury at Clan Urghul. Kazunki lay unmoving on the grass, but I didn’t waste my ire on him. That fell on the two Dwarves kneeling beside Kazunki.

“Put up your bow, Kíli! Put it up!” Jiri demanded as he galloped up.

“One of them shot Rinnala, and then shot at my brother!” I snarled. “Neither was an accident!”

That sent a mutter around, and the looks that fell on the Urghul Dwarves were dark and angry.

“My cousin didn’t shoot at Fíli or his dog with intent!” Ankulaz countered as he fumbled to his feet, but it wasn’t anger that colored his rebuke. Rather, it was shock. “Something spooked Kazunki’s pony, which must have sent his shot awry. But he’s paid for his pony’s madness – my cousin broke his neck when he fell. He is no more.”

That sobered everyone, even me. The blood drained from my face, and my hand faltered as I lowered my bow. I fumbled to loose my arrow from the bowstring and put it in my quiver. “Oh, no.... no. Oh, Valar.”

No matter how disliked the Urghul Dwarves were, every one of the Kahgli Dwarves looked dismayed. We hadn’t known Kazunki long, but he’d been the easiest of the three Urghul Dwarves to bear. He’d handled his uncomfortable circumstances with stoic resolve, he’d lent a hand without hesitation when asked, and he’d done all that anyone had asked him. He’d willingly shared conversation with me earlier, too, so maybe with time he would have become a genial companion.

We would never know.

I was astonished when every Kahgli Dwarf, before he or she did anything else, dismounted and filed past Kazunki’s body to touch their foreheads to the hem of his tunic, and murmur a word or two. As soon as Fíli and I sorted out that out, we followed suit without hesitation. As our turn came, the words of the Dwarves ahead of us grew clear; most invoked Mahal to see Kazunki’s spirit safely home. As neither my brother nor I bore the stolid Dwarf ill, Fíli offered the same sincere wish in his turn, and bowed his head over him in solemn homage.

“May Mahal and all the Valar see you safely home, Kazunki,” I said in my turn. “I’m sorry I didn’t have the chance to know you better, so I thank you for your words of advice this morn. I wish you a swift last journey.”

I bent my forehead down to Kazunki’s tunic, swallowed, and made way for the next Dwarf.

If I was silent and shaken, Barkhuzi wasn’t. He slid beside me, thrusting the reins of a pony into my hands. “Hold tight, and don’t let anyone take her from you,” he whispered, then went forward to pay his respects. I was too bemused to ask why I needed to hold onto Barkhuzi’s pony so securely –

Oh and oh, I didn’t hold Barkhuzi’s pony. It was Kazunki’s pony whose reins I held. I looked to Fíli, but he hadn’t heard our friend’s words to me, so I stayed mum. Fortunately, no one came to take the pony from me but Barkhuzi himself, and the cautioning look in his eyes kept me from questioning him. Ankulaz and Grun were intent on their fallen one, and Fíli and Klyn were just as intent on Rinnala. The rest of the Dwarves were sorting out the antelope, so that’s what I should do, too...

Before I did, I led my pony past where Rinnala had fallen, and quickly found the spent arrow that had hurt her. I was sure that this was the arrow, because Kazunki had shown me his arrows this morn, and each one was fletched with white owl feathers. This arrow had the same distinctive fletching. One edge of its arrowhead was limned red.

I found a second arrow with the same fletching several feet on, buried several inches into the soil. It had come from the same direction as the one that had hurt Rinnala. So it might have been the one shot at Fíli.

“Give me those,” Barkhuzi murmured, and gave a look back at the Urghul Dwarves. “Quick, before they think to look for the arrows themselves.”

I handed them to my friend, who stowed them in his saddle quiver, then stripped off his tunic to drape over them to keep the white fletching unseen.

“So Kazunki did shoot twice,” I growled.

“I don’t know,” Barkhuzi grimaced. “I think not, but I won’t know for sure until I can get a closer look at his pony, and now’s not the time. I’ve fixed it so she’ll look lame, so no one can take her in hand but me for the trip back. But when we get to camp, make sure you volunteer to help with the ponies.”

“I will,” I agreed, and pulled off my tunic to help with the butchering.

 

* * *

 

There were no cheerful calls back and forth or singing while we worked to prepare the antelope for our trip home. Kazunki might have been part of a clan at odds with Kahgli, but no one acted poorly out of respect for the dead. Ankulaz and Grun sat watch over the body, of course, and the rest of us set to the antelope without resentment. It was not the bountiful hunt we’d hoped for, but it would feed the clan for a day or two before we’d have to hunt again. Out came the skins to pile the organs, and in deference for how slow we’d be getting home, we did the bare minimum to get the carcasses ready to pile on the ponies. No one complained when we left the intestines for the foxes, owls, and vultures. At length, we had two-dozen carcasses to carry home plus the bundles of organs, so we were all well laden. Because I was so light, I had four carcasses tied to my saddle.

Rinnala was in pain from the stitches that Klyn sewed across her flank, and Fíli was just as upset as she was. Fíli and Klyn laid her on a length of heavy canvas and slung her between their ponies for the ride home. A similar sling held Kazunki’s body between Ankulaz and Grun’s ponies. Barkhuzi led Kazunki’s limping pony behind his.

As heavily burdened as we all were, we managed only a slow walk for the way back. Crossing the thickets between rises took time, because we had to unload both Kazunki’s body and Rinnala to get the ponies through, then reload them with due care. When we finally reached the flat expanse, Jiri angled us southwest to reach Kahgli’s summer home. The afternoon sun had fallen low when Jiri pointed to a faint dark vertical line far over the grass.

“Barkhuzi, is that the mast?”

Our friend hopped atop his saddle, shading his eyes against the sun. “Aye, Jiri. Not far now.”

Thank the Valar, I thought, and several of my companions around me murmured likewise. Jiri sent two of the herders forward to alert the camp of our imminent arrival, and I’m sure they’d have words with Derfrulia about the day’s tragedies. We resumed our way with no greater speed than before, but everyone was glad that we’d soon be home.

I angled around my brother and Klyn to ride beside Barkhuzi, but before I reached his side, a pale shadow in the corner of my eye made me look behind us.

“There are a pair of wolves behind us,” I murmured to Barkhuzi.

The read-haired Dwarf turned to look. “Aye, there are. And where there are two, there will be more, especially as the sun falls. Pass the word to Jiri, would you, Kíli?”

“I will,” I said, urging my pony forward. I alerted the lead hunter without fanfare, who immediately had three of the most experienced hunters handing off their cargos of antelope to fall back unencumbered. The herders also piled their carcasses on the rest of us so they could drive the ponies that grazed across the flatness closer to the camp. Despite being so burdened – I had ten antelope piled atop me – the rest of us picked up the pace as best we could.

I was glad when we finally reached the camp, such that it was. The clan hadn’t been on site long, because the baggage still lay stacked in heaps, and only the family tent by the mast was up. I finally saw the tall stone enclosure that housed the young goats and their dams, and from the high-pitched sounds echoing from them, a good number of young were already in residence. Another tall stone enclosure nearby held pregnant ponies, but I didn’t hear the nickers of foals, so likely none of the dams had dropped them yet. I didn’t have the chance to look at more; folk streamed from the camp out to meet us, and it was a great relief to let ten heavy antelope slide off my aching legs. Mindful of Barkhuzi’s earlier request, I stayed near him as we rode into camp, following him into the briar brush enclosure that housed the pack ponies. He rode all the way to the farthest side of the brush fence before he got down, and he let his pony go without a second glance. I let mine go likewise, and darted to his side in time to help him lift the saddle off Kazunki’s pony.

“Hold her head, Kíli,” Barkhuzi told me, so I took the reins close to the pony’s halter. “Hold her tight, so she can’t bolt again. And make sure neither of the Urghuls followed us.”

“What do you look for?” I hissed, scanning the corral. So far, no one but us had bothered to venture here.

“This pony didn’t spook,” Barkhuzi avowed.

“What? How can you tell?”

“If an antelope or another pony had suddenly appeared under her nose, she would have shied off, and that would have been the end of it.” Barkhuzi finished his close examination of the pony’s left side, and ducked under her neck to check the right. “But she kept bucking until she threw Kazunki off. Maybe something wedged under her saddle.”

“A burr?” I asked.

“It would have to be a hellacious burr,” Barkhuzi replied as he ran his hands across the pony’s spine, then her shoulder, then her rump. At that, the pony threw her head up, eyes rolling in pain, fighting my hold to get away.

“What is it?”

“Fucking bastard,” Barkhuzi muttered, his eyes narrowing as he gently probed the pony’s rump again. “Look for yourself. Right there, right at the edge of where the saddle lay. It’s small.”

I wouldn’t have seen it if Barkhuzi hadn’t shown me exactly where to look. But once I saw it, it was obvious what it was.

Someone had stabbed Kazunki’s pony.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Fíli and Kíli help to set up Kahgli's summer camp, both find distressing clues to Kazunki's demise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> skator = hell (Black Speech)  
> dahaut = shit (Black Speech)  
> skator kurvanog = fucking hell (Black Speech)  
> shakutarbik kurvanog = fucking Dwarf (Black Speech)

As soon as we got into camp, willing hands unloaded the pile of antelope carcasses that nearly buried Kíli. I thought he’d come right to my side to help me with Rinnala, but he grabbed his pony’s reins and all but ran after Barkhuzi with Alabrin and Mhornar in close pursuit. They’d been whispering ever since we’d begun our slow trip home, and the impassive, shuttered expression on my brother’s face was mute evidence that something was up. Barkhuzi had kept tight hold of Kazunki’s pony ever since he’d snared her, too, so maybe the pony was the focus of their concern. In addition, our burly, red-haired friend hadn’t ever put his tunic back on after we’d butchered the antelope, which seemed odd.

Neither my brother’s expression nor my friend’s choice of attire took most of my attention, though. My beautiful Rinnala was hurt, and while she was a fancy, prancing maid, she was also a strong, experienced working dog, and wouldn’t feign the shock and pain that radiated from her soulful brown eyes. She’d lain still all the way home despite the ponies’ jarring trot, with only an occasional whimper. In deference to her, Klyn pointed us towards Vikken overseeing the arrangement of the dogs’ things.

“Straight to Master Vikken,” Klyn said. “He’ll help us ease Rinnala from the carry, and make sure I’ve stitched her properly.”

“Thank you, for me and Rinnala both,” I replied. “Just a few feet farther, pretty maid, then you’ll be easier.”

 

* * *

 

“Where’s Taad? We have to find Taad,” Barkhuzi muttered once he stopped swearing over the wound we’d discovered on the back of Kazunki’s pony. He craned his neck, searching the enclosure and nearby for Merruli. “Right now, before anyone can accuse either of us of stabbing our poor maid.”

“He’s there, just outside. Do you want me to fetch him?” I asked quickly.

“Yah, and right quick, no matter who he’s talking to. If it’s Derfrulia, then ask her to come, too.”

I did as I was told; fortunately, he didn’t challenge me, but came at a trot on my heels. In quick, low words, Barkhuzi explained the afternoon’s disaster, and revealed the pony’s wound. My friend hadn’t finished his explanation before the pony master looked grim.

“It was a long, thin blade that made that wound, lads. It’s a deep stab, which is why Faaldi bucked so hard.”

“Aye,” Barkhuzi nodded agreement. “You know I don’t have a blade like that, Taad. Neither does anyone else in Kahgli. Everyone in the hunting party can confirm that Fíli and Kíli were across the circle from Kazunki when Faaldi was stabbed, but you should search them and their gear just to confirm that they don’t have a blade like that, either.”

“I don’t, and neither does my brother, but you can search every bit of our things if you need to prove it,” I said firmly.

Merruli demurred. “I’ve not seen such a thing on either of you since you got here, so I believe you, Kíli. What I must do before anything else is to pass what you’ve shown and told me on to Derfrulia. She’ll need everything we can tell her to weigh what to do.”

“Wait, Taad – there’s more.” Barkhuzi went to his pony to fetch the two white-fletched arrows he’d hidden under his tunic, and nudged me to explain how I’d found them. I pointed out the blood on the one I thought had wounded Rinnala, and why I thought the other was the one I’d seen fly so close to Fíli. When I fell silent, Merruli mulled for some seconds before he gave me and my friend a sober look.

“You keep your eyes sharp, Khuzi, but Kíli, you and your brother keep yours even sharper.”

“Us?” I blinked. “No one can think either of us had anything to do with what happened to Kazunki. We were right across the circle form him when Faaldi started to buck.”

Merruli gave me a pointed look. “Aye, you and Fíli had nothing to do with what happened to Kazunki. Do you think Kahgli did?”

My jaw dropped before I rallied, but I shut my mouth fast enough as the pony master let me work through it for myself. I gave him an assessing look. “Um... well, sir, no disrespect, but Kahgli has no love for Urghul, that’s clear. Would anyone defy Derfrulia’s will to leave them alone?”

“A lot might talk about it, and a few might think long and hard about it,” Barkhuzi agreed.

“Aye,” Merruli nodded. “But if anyone did more than that, Kahgli would expel him or her, without exception. No one wants to risk that.”

“So that leaves Urghul. Why would they kill their own?”

“No reason that I can see.”

“They’re the ones who had those gaming blades during the trials,” Barkhuzi said. “That’s the kind of blade that stabbed Faaldi. No one saw it happen, so no one might see the next time such a blade falls.”

Merruli grunted. “Yanna’s foolish taunt about alliance with Durin angered them. So call me suspicious, or call me a great spinner of tales, but it takes little suspicion or imagination to think that if they did kill their own, they might find Durin a convenient clan to take the blame. So that’s why I tell you and your brother to watch out, Kíli.”

Merruli took the two white-fletched arrows and led Faaldi out of the enclosure, perhaps to show Derfrulia. I watched him go, then gave my friend a sidewise look. “On to the ponies, then?”

“I’ll see to them. Fíli doesn’t know what we found, and you need to tell him. You can tell Klyn, too, if you see him, but keep mum to anyone else. Let the clan elders sort out what it means. Go on, get all of your gear from your pony, and find your brother. He’ll be with Vikken, seeing to poor Rinnala. And the both of you keep your eyes as sharp as Taad told you.”

Once again, I did as I was told without question. As soon as I had my bow, quiver, and tunic off my saddle, I ran out of the enclosure to look for Fíli. Alabrin and Mhornar had waited outside for me, and they came to me at once, eyes intent on mine to see what I’d do.

“Can you find Fíli, Mhornar? Alabrin? Do you know where Rinnala is?”

My dogs trotted off. Mhornar threw me a look over her shoulder as if to ask what kept me, so I sped up. Yes, there was my brother, just as Barkhuzi had guessed, with Klyn, Vikken, and Yanna. They’d eased Rinnala’s sling from between the ponies and placed her on the ground. I hastened to join them.

 

* * *

 

Kíli dropped to his knees beside me. He had the same closed expression on his face that I’d seen when we’d reached camp, the same expression I’d seen too often in Thorin’s Halls when he’d felt apprehensive. He wasn’t alone in his apprehension – Mhornar and Alabrin whined to see Rinnala still lying on the canvas, and the latter nosed my sad maid with a whuff.

“Kíli, call Alabrin back,” Vikken asked in a testy tone.

My brother drew Alabrin to him with an urgent word, hooking an arm over the dog’s shoulders to keep him seated beside him. Mhornar stood at his other side. It was almost comical to see the same apprehensive look on her face that Kíli wore, but I was too concerned about Rinnala to laugh.

“I’m sorry, Vikken,” Kíli said quickly. “How is she?”

“In no danger,” Vikken assured my brother, as he had me. “Klyn’s stitches stopped the bleeding quickly, but they’ll be stiff and sore for a few days.”

“I’m glad she’ll be well again soon,” Kíli replied, reaching forward to fluff a bit of the fur atop Rinnala’s head.

Vikken resumed his description of how I was to take care of my distressed dog. He had me help him lift Rinnala to her feet so we could wrap a soft bandage around her girth, more to keep her from gnawing at the stitches than anything else. His instructions were detailed and precise, but his tone was clipped, clearly upset at how my queen had been wounded.

“Who could have been so foolish as to let an arrow loose if there was even the least bit of danger to dog or Dwarf?” the master of the dogs growled. “Better to lose an antelope – we can hunt another in a matter of minutes. We can’t replace a dog that fast.”

“I heard it was Kazunki,” Yanna spit, no less angry than Vikken. “The claim was that he lost control of his pony and his shot went wild. Even an Urghul couldn’t be so poor a master of his mount.”

“Um,” Kíli said hesitantly, caressing Alabrin with nervous strokes. “I don’t think it was... entirely Kazunki’s fault. With respect, I think you should talk to Merruli, Vikken. And Yanna... you, too. As soon as you can.”

The master of Kahgli’s dogs and its heir exchanged startled expressions, but they didn’t take issue with Kíli’s suggestion.

“Klyn, please see to the dogs,” Vikken bade my friend, as he and Yanna rose from beside Rinnala. Klyn offered subdued acknowledgement as they both strode away, but as soon as they were out of earshot, he turned eager eyes on Kíli.

“What happened? Did Merruli find something?”

“Khuzi did. Someone stabbed Faaldi – Kazunki’s pony – maybe with one of those long thin knives like the Urghuls had during the testing. But that’s not the worst of it. Someone shot at Fíli, too, right after Rinnala was hurt. I saw it.”

“I felt it go by,” I admitted, when Klyn’s eyes got round. I groped for the bit of hair that was shorter than the rest, and held it out as proof.

“Mahal, Fíli!” Klyn mouthed. “It wasn’t the same arrow that hit Rinnala? You’re sure?”

“I am,” Kíli murmured. “Rinnala was already hurt when I saw the arrow that got so close to Fíli. What’s more, I found two of the Urghul’s arrows on the grass, one with blood on it. That one likely hit Rinnala. The second one had tracked the same line. Khuzi saw me collect them. He gave them to his father to show to Derfrulia. He also told me not to breathe a word to anyone but the two of you – we’re to let the elders sort it out. So hold your tongues.”

Klyn hunched down on himself. “The elders... Oh, Valar.”

Kíli’s eyes sparked nervously. “That’s bad? The elders?”

“What? Oh... aye, that’s... serious. Very, very serious.” He looked no less nervous than Kíli, and darted looks around us as if expecting to see something – what, I had no idea. “I’ve got to see to the rest of the dogs. Settle Rinnala in the family tent; she should be all right to walk there. But don’t let her run about, and absolutely keep her from worrying at the bandage or the stitches. Some dogs think that chewing on their Dwarves’ careful tending helps, which it doesn’t.”

“Thank you for seeing to her so fast and so well, Klyn,” I replied, putting as much sincerity in my voice as I could. “I’ll do her justice, don’t worry.”

As our friend got up to continue Vikken’s arranging of the dogs’ area, Kíli and his dogs paid close attendance on Rinnala and me as we paced ever so slowly through the bustle to the family tent. The family tent was up, and the ground cover and so forth had been put in place, but so much stir was still afoot that there wouldn’t be much chance to let Rinnala rest inside. Kíli pointed out past the tents.

“You could take Rinnala out there and settle with her,” Kíli urged. “Alabrin and Mhornar need to settle before they eat, so they’ll keep you company, and I’ll do our turn to help set up the camp.”

I didn’t like leaving my work to Kíli, but as important as the wolfhounds were to the clan, I decided the better duty was to Rinnala rather than to tent canvas and baggage packs. I gave my brother a reluctant nod, and we paced slowly a little distance away from the bustle. Kíli asked his dogs to remain with me, so they settled on either side of Rinnala as she made her ginger way down onto her uninjured side.

Kíli trotted back to the tents, and he was soon put to work setting sturdy tent posts. I expected the canvas covering to go on next, as it had each time we’d helped set up camp before. But the sequence was different this time – a handful of Dwarves bustled about building something out of sturdy lengths of wood. Drekkani came with his dog Ezkulazar to sit with me, so I asked what they were doing.

“’T is our summer beds!” the grizzled hunter laughed. “It’s pleasant enough now, here in the cool of spring, but you’ll roast in your own oil come the deepest part of the summer, that’s how hot it’ll get. So we build platforms to let the air circulate underneath. Did you not notice that we can roll the bottom edges of the tent up or down? So we can let the breezes cool us as we sleep on many a night.”

My brow wrinkled. “Doesn’t that let the flies in? Several folk have spoken of how vicious the pests are. Letting them in the tent doesn’t sound wise.”

“Aye, the tales about the flies are true, no matter how outrageous they are,” Drekkani conceded with a resigned look. “And vicious is no lie – they’ll drive a pony mad with their stinging, looking for blood. They drink so much that they can even kill a weakened animal. In a bad year, you’ll think the ponies and horses have all turned black; that’s how thickly the files cover the poor beasts. They don’t bother the goats as much, given their woolly coats, but they drive the wolves to distraction as badly as the ponies and horses.”

“The dogs, too, I’d think. Their coats aren’t even as thick as a pony’s.”

“Also true. The only saving grace is that they plague us only in the hottest part of the summer. Even then, as long as the wind is steady and strong, the flies can’t swarm nearly so much, though they still bite like fire. And the heat of the day is too much for them. It’s at night when they’re Melkor’s scourge. Most of us sleep during the day when all we have to endure is the heat. Night is when the wolves are most active, anyway, so most of us are with the herds then.”

“Is there no relief from the pests, then? Folk can make a thicker hide out of cloth and leather, but what about the poor dogs? And the ponies?”

“We lace the tents up tight and light smudge fires come many a night,” Drekkani explained. “The ponies see the coals and draw in close, because it deters wolves as well as flies. The dogs know to stay near the smoke, too. That makes night watch a bit easier. Even the goats tuck in close. Flies may not bother them like they do the ponies, but the wolves certainly do. They’re not fools.”

Dwarves continued to lash slats of wood together for the platforms, and another saw to the hearth at the center of the tent. Only when all that was done did the canvas go up over the posts that made the sides and roof of the structure. Drekkani continued to explain construction nuances as folk finished the tent and moved to the next one. I wondered aloud where the wood for so many sleeping platforms, not to mention the tent posts, came from in such a land where the rare trees were so stunted, and my mentor was quick to enlighten me. The clan collected suitable bits of wood over time, and kept a supply stashed at both winter and summer encampments, so that they didn’t have to lug it as they moved between them. There was a protected part of the summer stone pens where the wood was stored over the winter, and a stone cairn in the winter camp kept another supply safe during the summer.

Kíli and I had been sleeping on the ground softened with just a pad, and thinking it was fine. It seemed we’d enjoy a bit more comfort from now on than we’d expected.

As Kíli and the other folk moved to the next tent, I noticed Ankulaz and Grun some distance from the camp, standing watch over Kazunki’s body.

“Will they take Kazunki’s body home to their lands?” I asked.

Drekkani shook his head. “I suppose if they wanted to, they could, but there’s not much point – the grass is the grass, whether it’s here or north of here. No matter how much reason there is for ill will between Kahgli and Urghul, Derfrulia won’t refuse Ankulaz the right to pay proper respect to his second. Even Tobazel, foaming mad bastard that he is, wouldn’t dispute Kahgli’s right to respect for the dead if we’d lost one of ours on their holdings.”

“So will Kahgli help Ankulaz and Grun dig a grave, or raise a cairn?”

“No, none of that, Fíli. Them’s rites for town folk, not us. We live on the grass. Our ponies, horses, and goats take their share of the grass and scrub, and we take our share of the meat. It’s proper respect for us to offer our meat back to the grass in gratitude for its bounty.”

I’d never heard of such a thing, but Drekkani’s matter-of-fact explanation made perfect sense. “So... no disrespect meant; I only want to understand... you just... expose the body, then?”

“No disrespect taken,” Drekkani nodded, stroking his dog. “Yah, that’s what it amounts to, though there will be a bit of ceremony to the doing. You’ll see soon.”

“Kíli and I want to offer our proper part,” I replied.

“I didn’t expect otherwise,” Drekkani smiled. “Maybe you and your brother can offer a solemn tune on your fiddles when the time comes. That’d be kindly done.”

“Of course we will,” I agreed readily. “I see that Cyth’s moving her stores into the family tent now. I’ll get Rinnala settled in our space, then I’ll help her.”

“Good lad,” Drekkani, gave me a friendly clap on the shoulder. “Here, I’ll help you get Rinnala on her feet, then off you go.”

We eased my wounded dog to her feet, then Drekkani and Ezkulazar went off to see where they could help. I beckoned to Alabrin and Mhornar, who flanked Rinnala as if to protect her from inadvertent brushes against the folk busily rushing to and fro. I heralded Cyth as she came out for another load.

“Cyth! Can you use another set of hands to set the tent in order?”

“Fíli!” Cyth flashed me a pleased smile. “Of course I can! The sleeping platforms are all in place, but nothing else has been done. Settle your poor queen on your bed, then I’ll keep you busy until supper!”

I helped Cyth haul in more of her bags and boxes, then she explained how the platforms needed to be arranged farther towards the sides of the tent to make more room for the hearth. The three dogs sat patiently in the center of the tent while Cyth and I got the platforms arranged, then hauled in all the pads and other bedding. Once we laid all those out, I beckoned to Rinnala to settle on mine. Alabrin and Mhornar hopped atop Kíli’s without waiting for me to tell them otherwise; both of them gave me such smug looks that I laughed, but didn’t correct them. They wanted to keep Rinnala company, and that was easier to do when they were all on the same level. I hoped Kíli wouldn’t have a tussle on his hands once it was time to sleep, and end up sleeping under the platform instead of the dogs.

Now that the dogs had settled, I rejoined Cyth working at the hearth. The fireplace was already lined with stones, and I helped Cyth erect a study iron grate over one part of it, and a big round iron cylinder over another. That’s where Cyth would set pans of things to simmer; the grate could also handle pots, but was primarily the place to grill meat. As open as it was, I worried about tiny Issi stumbling into it, but no sooner had I wondered about that than Ilka came in to help with her bairn on her hip. The dam looped a length of goat’s hair rope around the little one like a harness, and tied it securely to one of the sleeping platforms. That let Issi range a bit without pitching herself into the fire, or require Ilka to stay right by her side. The tiny lass seemed well content to roll about with a chiming sheepskin ball and a pair of raggedy cloth dolls, though she sat up often to see what went on around her.

Cyth had me help her lift her storage chests of supplies atop one another on the right side of the tent door. They had sliding doors rather than ones that swung open, which saved room, and they held all the supplies that Cyth used in her cooking, as well as the clan’s medicines. The chests of supplies for mending and tools for camp chores stacked on the left side of the tent door. A few hooks off the central tent pole above the stove held the most frequently used pans and tools. Before long, the tent looked like it had been here for months.

“There!” Cyth dusted off her hands, then wiped them on the work cloth she’d placed by the hearth. “We’re ready for the fire. All that’s left to do is to haul in all the baggage, and fetch the day’s fuel and water, then we can start supper. Fíli, I’ll show you the family packs, and we’ll get them in the right place.”

I followed her outside, where big pile of packs lay in a heap, just as they’d come off the pack ponies. Cyth pointed out which packs I was to haul for her, then she grabbed a load herself and we carted them inside. I asked her about the insignia that identified each pack, and as Kíli and I had suspected, everyone chose a personal design and marked their things in their spare time. Yanna’s bore a spotted pony, and Cyth’s had a white dog in memory of her last wolfhound, Issigit. Derfrulia’s had a brown steppe pony with a star over its head. Merruli’s had a bright red steppe pony stretched out in full gallop, and so on. The packs belonging to Kili and me lay next to our bundles of wolf pelts; they were the only undecorated ones, which we’d have to remedy soon. Kíli had talked about drawing his dogs facing one another with an arrow upright between them, which sounded fine. I hadn’t decided on my design yet; maybe a prancing Rinnala and a blade underneath –

“Fíl!” Kíli ran up panting, a worried look on his face. “There you are! I finished the tents, and didn’t see sign of you or the dogs.”

“I helped Cyth and Ilka settle the family tent,” I replied. “The dogs are inside. And wait until you see yours. You might have to fight them for bed space tonight.”

Kíli’s face slid into a relieved grin. “Will I? Have they already claimed my spot for their own?

“They think they have. Here, grab your pack and your wolf skin. Everything else is inside, so we can settle our things. Wait until you see the sleeping platforms!”

“I have! I helped put a lot of them inside the tents. They help let in the breezes at night. Very ingenious!”

Kíli babbled on about the things he’d picked up from helping with the tent raising, so I reached down for my pack –

The knots that held the top flap closed weren’t my usual decorative ones, but only plain square knots.

Kíli instantly picked up on my hesitation. “What?”

“Did you open my pack since we left camp this morn?”

Kíli’s eyes went to my pack. “Those aren’t your usual knots. They’re not mine, either.”

“So someone else opened it. What about yours?”

Kíli stooped beside his. “Mine’s been opened, too.”

We locked eyes, then hauled our packs inside the tent without another word. Cyth looked up at our entrance, but waved us on to our spaces. “I can use the both of you to fetch water and set the big pots once you put your things down.”

“Be right there, Cyth,” I assured her, but gave Kíli a look. We hurried to our places where our dogs lay ensconced. It was a mark of Kíli’s concern that he drew Alabrin and Mhornar off his bed so we could set down our packs on it without disturbing Rinnala. Both of us untied the laces with ginger fingers, not knowing exactly what we’d find.

“Mine’s a right jumble,” Kíli muttered, and looking inside I had to agree. We’d both taken pains this morn to get everything packed as tightly as possible, but now everything inside was askew out of our tight rolls. “ _Dahaut_ , I’ll have to repack the whole thing later tonight.”

I took a surreptitious glance at the hearth, but Cyth was still mulling her pots, so I met Kíli’s eyes. “Check to make sure nothing’s missing.”

Kíli’s answer to that was to upend his pack and dump everything out of it. Once we both gave everything a quick study, Kíli sat back on his heels. “Everything’s here.”

“My turn, then.” I upended my pack, and out cascaded my things. I hadn’t taken more than a breath when Kíli’s fingers tightened on my arm.

“What’s that?” he breathed, even though he already knew the answer as well as I did.

It was a long, slender gaming knife.

“ _Skator kurvanog_ ,” I whispered back, trying to think.

“Derfrulia said that she’d banish anyone she found with one of those,” Kíli gulped.

“Aye, she did. The _shakutarbik kurvanog_ who put it in my pack knew it, too.”

“So what do we do? Hide it?”

“Someone’s bound to find it, sooner or later,” I replied.

“Yah, and what if someone whispers in Derfrulia’s ear that we have it?” Kíli agreed. “That’d be just what they’d want, to make us look like a pair of traitors.”

“Exactly,” I nodded. “So we aren’t going to hide it.”

“What’re we going to do with it?” Kíli hunched down, glancing at the hearth. “Better decide fast, Fíl. Cyth’s looking at us.”

“Good,” I said with more certainty than I felt. I looked back at the hearth, and met Cyth’s eyes. “Um, Cyth? There’s something we want to show you.”

As the old dam frowned at my strained tone, then got to her feet, Kíli gave me a wide-eyed look.

“Are you mad?” he hissed.

“I hope not,” I replied.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to Kazunki's death, Clan Kahgli issues a challenge and a promise.

Fíli’s expression was calm enough, but mine must’ve been terrified, because Cyth wasted no time in coming into our private space.

“What’s wrong?” she blurted, eyes narrowing in worry.

I looked to Fíli, who beckoned Cyth closer. As she leaned in, my brother spoke softly.

“Kíli and I noticed outside that someone had rifled our packs. We thought someone might have taken something. But that’s not what we found. Someone left us something.”

Cyth’s eyes narrowed still more. “What?”

Fíli had hidden the gaming knife under one of his tunics. He flipped up the edge of the cloth to reveal the weapon.

“Oh, the bastards!” she spat, but softly.

“It’s not ours!” I couldn’t keep myself from saying. “And it wasn’t there this morn when we packed, Cyth, I swear!”

“I know it wasn’t, lad,” Cyth laid a hand on my knee to belie her rough voice. “I saw the right mess of your things both of you made this morn, scattered hither and yon, and while I didn’t like it at the time, now I’m glad you did, because I can vouch that neither of you had that then.”

“Fíli, tell Cyth that we don’t want to be sent home,” I urged my brother. The thought of giving up Mhornar and Alabrin had a lump in my throat, and so did leaving the grass. This was the one place in my life so far where I’d found any peace, and I wasn’t ashamed of being so distraught at the prospect of leaving. I was upset enough that both my dogs whined softly, and even Rinnala gave me a worried look. “That blade isn’t ours! Maybe Fíli has more knives than any other Dwarf anywhere, but that isn’t one of them –”

“Calm down, Kíl,” my brother gave me a shake. “Derfrulia will give us a fair hearing, so give Cyth a chance to consider first.”

I swallowed my upset, and darted a furtive look at Cyth, but she was too busy mulling the blade. No, mulling was too mild a word for how Kahgli’s wisest dam regarded the gaming knife. Her regard was fierce enough to light a forge, and still have enough besides to vaporize the blade.

“You knew your packs had been tampered with?” Cyth gave us an intense look. “How?”

“We both tie our pack laces with different knots, tight ones, but also decorative, to mimic the first rune of our names,” Fíli explained.

“Aye,” Cyth nodded. “I’ve seen them.”

“We knotted the laces as usual this morn, but when we went to haul our packs inside just now, we found that the laces had been retied with regular square knots. As I said, we thought we’d been robbed, but when we dumped everything out...”

When Cyth held out her hand, beckoning for the knife, my brother gave it to her at once. She pulled it out of its scabbard, and while it looked clean enough, I thought about it darting out to strike poor Faaldi, and swallowed hard. Cyth resheathed the blade, secreted it in the folds of her tunic, and then eyed us with her fierce expression no less adamant.

“We’ll see if we can outfox whoever gave you that serpent’s tooth,” she growled. “Both of you, hold your tongues while I talk to Derfrulia – not one word to anyone, not until I or Derfrulia tells you otherwise! Put the big kettle on the stove, and then take the big basket out on the grass and collect the night’s fuel. We need water, too, but don’t either of you venture near the river yet. I don’t want anyone saying you had the chance to pitch your unwanted gift into the water.”

“Yes, Cyth,” we promised, but the dam didn’t hear us – she was already out of the tent with purpose in her stride. I gulped again, and now that Cyth didn’t have her eye on us, Fíli looked no more settled than I did.

“Come on,” Fíli said, taking a marshaling breath. “The kettle first, then the fuel. No, we’d better stuff everything back in our packs so no one but Cyth and Derfrulia know anything’s odd. And for the love of the Valar, Kíli, don’t look like the world’s about to end.”

“You, either,” I retorted. My fingers flew as I hurried to restore tunics, trews, and tools to their usual orderly arrangement in my pack. Fíli’s expression was sheepish as he followed suit – oh and oh, he was just as upset as I was, then. I didn’t feel so foolish when we both worked to compose ourselves as well as our belongings.

“There, back to our usual,” Fíli exhaled.

“Laces. Tie the laces like we always do. Like nothing happened.”

Fíli gave me an affronted look, but it was bravado – he tied his laces with more care than either of us had ever put into such a mundane task. “All right. Now the kettle. Where is it?”

“Still outside,” I offered. “It was by our packs, remember?”

We hauled the big kettle inside. Ilka got out of the way by the hearth so we could lug the thing into place, then gave us a laughing shake of the head; her indulgent, unperturbed humor was jarring in light of what my brother and I had just discovered. But it wasn’t so hard to muster a similar expression when I realized why the dam had laughed – we’d been too distracted to unpack the kettle’s contents before we lifted it onto the stove.

“Oh, you want to stew our wiping cloths and the teakettle?” she teased, for those were among the contents of the kettle.

“Neither would improve the taste of the stew,” Fíli agreed with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Cyth wants us to collect the night’s fuel, so we’ll get on with it.”

Ilka pointed to the big basket sitting by the hearth, so Kíli picked it up. Before we left the tent, though, he cast a look back at the dogs.

“Mhornar and Alabrin should stay with Rinnala, don’t you think?” I suggested.

Before Fíli answered, Mhornar gave Alabrin a whuff, heaved herself off my bed, and came to my side to look up at me.

“Your wise one doesn’t seem to think we should be let out alone,” Fíli snickered, giving my enigmatic maid a quick caress. “She’s probably right.”

“Thank you, Mhornar,” I agreed, following Fíli’s caress with my own. “You’re the wisest of us, so it’s best that we listen to you.”

My dog gave another whuff of such clear agreement that Ilka laughed again as she shooed us on our way. “Fill the basket, please, and make sure the chips are completely dry, or they’ll smoke up the tent!”

We went out with brash assurances that were as empty as the basket I carried.

Did the camp seem different? Oh, it looked just as it had moments ago – folk still bustled to and fro, still carried gear from one place to another, still called back and forth. Still, the air held a somber undertow because one of us had died today. But as death was a constant part of life on the grass, today’s tragedy stopped no one from addressing camp rounds. To do so would invoke more suffering, for folk wouldn’t have snug shelter, or enough food, or healthy dogs, or warm fire.

The somber reality of a fallen Dwarf, however, wasn’t responsible for why I thought things seemed different. It was the manner of the tragedy that made me sick. It hadn’t resulted from a freak accident, or bad planning, or an error in judgment – no, someone in our hunting party had actively brought that that tragedy about.

Someone had done murder, and that should always give folk pause, whether out on the grass, or in the most exalted halls of a king.

 

* * *

 

Kíli’s queen escorted us out past the tents to collect the night’s fuel. We didn’t have far to go; ponies and antelopes had left a bounty of dung in all states of dryness, proving how well they favored this rare expanse of flat land. Kíli and I toiled in silence; my brother still looked as wide-eyed and skittish as the antelope that had preceded us, and if I’d spoken he might’ve started just as easily as they did. I didn’t blame him – Kazunki’s death was nothing short of murder, even if the hand that had done the deed had struck his pony rather than him. That was enough to make even Master Dwalin glower.

Master Dwalin...

Uncle Thorin’s general was not a devious Dwarf by nature. He was as forthright as his favorite axe, as plain as his tattooed knuckles that promised death to any Orc fool enough to provoke them. But he was a crafty fighter, and he would surely have known how to use a slender knife to wound a Dwarf as well as a pony. Failing that, he could snap a neck with just a twist of his hands.

I wondered if anyone had seen Kazunki’s body. If he’d hit his head on a rock, well and good. But if his neck showed signs of twisting...

What grounds had Kazunki given anyone to murder him?

I mulled that for a while.

By the time Kíli and I had half filled the basket with dried dung, my brother was calmer, and looked around us for more than invisible hands wielding devious knives.

“Look, Fíl,” he murmured, pointing to the northwest. “There’s a river over there, likely a branch of the Lhûn. Maybe that’s what helped to make this flat part of the grass? All the silt over years and years and years?”

I shaded my eyes against the falling sun. “Maybe so. That’s a lot of silt, though. I wonder what made all the rises in the first place? They seem to go forever.”

“They do,” Kíli looked east. “They seem to curve just the slightest bit, like a big ripple in a pond, with the center somewhere far to the southeast of here.

“There seem to be a lot more rocks here, too. The Blue Mountains curve a bit to the east at the northern end, so maybe one of their deep roots runs under the ground here.”

“That would interrupt the rises,” Kíli agreed, swinging his gaze back to the river. “Look, more of the water birds!”

Indeed, a cloud of the snowy white and grey birds rose some miles away, as if something had disturbed their rest. This was the time of day when most bird looked for a place to settle, rather than flying into the sky.

“Wolves might’ve stirred them,” Kíli said, as if he’d heard my thoughts.

For the first time since finding an unwanted knife in my pack, I smiled.

“What?” Kíli gave me a frowning look.

“Your campaign to become an eerily fucking menace is working. I’d just wondered about what might’ve stirred the birds.”

The smile Kíli returned was gleeful. “I wasn’t trying to convince you, but I’ll take that as sign that I’m on the right path.”

“You are. Keep on it. Think of it as the prank to end all pranks.”

Kíli’s jaw dropped. “Valar, brother – that’s just the thought I’d had, too. I don’t know enough about the grass yet to prank anyone here in a way that doesn’t court a disaster I don’t know about, but I can certainly work at being your eerily fucking menace so no one else tries to call a disaster down on your head that they know about but I don’t... I mean –”

“That didn’t come out right, but I know what you mean,” I chuckled, pitching another chip into the basket.

“Good,” Kíli exhaled, grinning, but quickly sobered. His gaze regarded something over my shoulder, so I turned to see what had drawn his attention. “I hope we can figure out what Merruli means as well as we do each other.”

The pony master strode towards us, his usual smile nowhere in evidence. A young Kahgli maid, barely older than a bairn, trotted beside him. Kíli and I straightened beside our basket to meet him.

“Yes, sir?” I greeted respectfully, for something told me that Merruli’s appearance deserved the courtesy.

“Give your basket to Wyrtaal, and both of you follow me,” Merruli directed.

“Yes, sir,” my brother and I murmured. As we followed the pony master, I snuck a look behind; the small lass had our basket in hand, dragging it along behind her as she added dried chips to it.

Merruli strode with stern purpose towards the river. Kíli and I followed without protest, Cyth’s earlier admonishment notwithstanding. We were in the company of a senior Kahgli family member, so I had no worries about going to the river with him; Kíli followed me a half step behind. The land was so flat here that the river was little more than a silver ribbon, level with the land; maybe it had changed course recently because it wasn’t incised into the soil. Derfrulia, Yanna, Jiri, and Cyth stood by a scatter of pebbles atop a bare stretch of mud by the water.

“Wait here, Kíli,” Merruli bade my brother, before we’d come within earshot of the group by the pebbles. “Turn and face the camp, so that you don’t look on those by the river.”

“What are you going to do to my brother?” Kíli’s strained, tight voice protested. “He didn’t hurt Kazunki or Faaldi. And if you think he did, then take it out on me, not Fíli!”

“Nothing will happen to your brother, or you,” Merruli gave Kíli a quelling look. “Your turn will come soon enough. Until then, stay here, and do as I say.”

“Yes, sir,” Kíli gulped, and with one last desperate look at me, he turned to face the camp, knelt beside Mhornar, and put his face in her fur. It would have been a disconsolate pose to tug at anyone’s heartstrings, but for the look of profound disgust that Mhornar turned on Merruli. The pony master didn’t smother a chuckle as he beckoned to me.

I followed in silence, and hoped that Merruli’s chuckle meant I wasn’t about to endure whatever terrible things had leapt into my brother’s imagination.

Merruli drew me to face the grim visages of the Kahgli leadership. I schooled my expression to reveal neither worry nor fear as Jiri pointed to the scattering of pebbles on the mud.

“The hunt this afternoon,” Derfrulia said. “Tell me what you saw when Kazunki fell.”

“I didn’t see Kazunki fall. I didn’t know he had until after.”

“Why not?”

“Rinnala was wounded. I didn’t care about anything after that. I’m lucky Kíli kept his head to fend off the antelope when I dashed in the middle of them to get Rinnala on my pony.”

“Then tell me about the moment when you saw Rinnala hit. Where was everyone in the hunting party at that moment?”

Oh, I understood the pebbles now. I was supposed to place them on the mud, naming each member of the party as I did so. I did the best I could, but it vexed me that I had a clear sense of the scene only until Rinnala was hit. I did remember to say that I’d been shot at, too, and held up my shorn lock of hair as proof. Then I described how Kíli and his dogs had protected me by either driving off or downing the antelope that careened around us after I’d dashed into the middle of the hunters’ circle. Derfrulia asked me several probing questions, which I answered as clearly as I could. When the clan leader was satisfied, she admonished me not to talk to anyone outside of the hunting party about these matters until she’d made whatever deliberation she felt was needed. I gave my word to follow her directions, and then I was allowed to walk back to Kíli.

Merruli came with me to lead Kíli’s to the elders so that he could give his description. I didn’t have to look away, so even though I was out of earshot, I saw him speak and then place the pebbles. He had much more to say than I did, and he placed the pebbles quickly. When the elders released him, he was much calmer, and rejoined me with a thoughtful expression. Mhornar, pacing beside him, looked inscrutable.

“So where was everyone when Kazunki was shot?” I asked without preamble. “I had no idea of anything once Rinnala was hurt.”

“I knew up until Kazunki flew off Faaldi.” He rattled off where each one of the hunting party members had been at that point. “After that, I saw Kazunki get up, but he ran into another pony, and fell down again. Then you ran out to fetch Rinnala, and I went after you, and after that all I saw were antelope dashing about, and Alabrin and Mhornar darting back and forth to drive the antelope away from us until we got out of the circle.”

“Did anyone see what happened to Faaldi?”

Kíli shook his head. “If anyone did, Derfrulia didn’t say so. I heard Rinnala yelp, and saw the arrow go past your ear, but nothing before that.”

“Did they ask you about the knife?”

Again, Kíli shook his head. “You?”

I shook my head.

“So what do we do now?”

“I don’t know. Go back and rescue Wyrtaal, I suppose. That basket’s bigger than she is. Or fetch water for Ilka.”

That was as good a thing to do as anything else. We helped the wee lass fill the last part of the basket, and sent her skipping ahead of us with Mhornar while we carted the basket behind. No one had carted water in for Ilka yet, so Kíli and I took the water skins to fill, making sure to stay within sight of several others so that all knew we hadn’t pitched anything into the river. After that, the elders still mulled, so Kíli and I helped Rinnala to her feet, and took her and Kíli’s dogs for their supper. They had their meat and a careful grooming. Still the elders mulled, so we returned to the family tent to let Rinnala rest, and Ilka put us to work to help her make the supper. We weren’t the most experienced of cook’s helpers, but the dam was patient with us, and we cut up the slabs of antelope neatly for her to have ready to grill whenever Derfrulia’s deliberations were complete. She even showed us how to mix the dough for the raisin biscuits, teasing us gently at our awkward attempts. Still we did all right – our efforts might be lumpier than what Cyth’s deft hands could turn out, but they’d taste fine.

We had dough ready for the griddle when word came for everyone to meet with the elders by the river. Ilka banked the fire, put the bouncing Issi on her hip, and came out with us. Again, Mhornar came with Kíli, while Alabrin stayed to watch over Rinnala.

As Kahgli streamed towards the river, Derfrulia, Yanna, Merruli, and Jiri waited for us by the side of the water. Ankulaz stood with them. The Urghul heir stood erect and proud beside the Kahgli elders, but without arrogance as he fingered the amulet around his neck. Perhaps the fallen Kazunki had given him his talisman, and he held it now to shore up his stoic demeanor before so many folk he surely considered unfriendly. I scanned the faces around me as we approached the river, but no one revealed anything but somber concern. Silently, we formed a semicircle around the elders, and waited expectantly for Derfrulia to speak.

“Tragedy befell us today,” Derfrulia began in her unadorned, direct fashion. “While all know that any of us may fall at any moment, it is still a shock when it happens. Even when we are together, the moment of falling always comes to each of us alone. It is right for those who remain behind to put aside all ill words and contention, and band together to remember and mourn the fallen. Kazunki was new to us, but he is no less deserving of the rites we offer the fallen. Clan Kahgli is honored to observe those rites with all solemn reflection. Tomorrow, we will return Kazunki’s body to the grass, as is proper. Tonight, we offer his kinsman Ankulaz and comrade Naggrundaz solace for their loss.”

Derfrulia went to her knees by the river, followed by the other elders. Around us, Kahgli sank to the grass as well, so Kíli and I did likewise. Kíli even bade Mhornar to crouch on her belly. But Kahgli wasn’t content merely to kneel in the grass; every single member of the clan, from the smallest bairn out of a dam’s arms to the oldest hunter, put forehead to the grass to salute the fallen. Kíli and I did as well. It was a fitting offering, for such a humble posture made it easy to think of how quickly one’s life could end through no fault of one’s own, and how great a gift life was. With that in mind, I sent a silent thought to Mahal, thanking the Valar’s master smith for my life, and asking Him to treat Kazunki’s spirit kindly when it returned to Him.

After a long moment, the clan sat back on their heels, and the elders rose to their feet – ah, not alone. Ankulaz had joined Kahgli in homage to his fallen cousin, and now rose with the elders. When the rest of Kahgli also started to rise, however, Derfrulia held her hands up to stop us.

“I have more to say,” the horse maid said, and now her voice turned harsh. “A death is not the only tragedy that befell us today. Kazunki’s death was not accidental.”

That raised a shocked murmur from all who sat in the semicircle around the elders. Derfrulia nodded, agreeing with her folk that this was an unprecedented and unwelcome development.

“Treachery went hand in hand with secrecy to cause Kazunki’s death. Neither treachery nor secrecy is part of Kahgli’s heritage. As we have learned to our sorrow, both do all folk evil, not just those who fall before them. We have sworn that they will have no part of our future, yet one of our fosterlings has fallen victim to them today. How can we allow this?”

An upset murmur was an apt reply to Derfrulia’s clear dismay.

“I ask all of you to act honorably to help us banish the evil that has fallen on us. If any here has had a hand in this evil, and my words have reminded you how highly Kahgli values our integrity, then speak to me, and I will deal fairly with you. If you are afraid to face Kahgli’s judgment, then leave tonight, and you will not be pursued. But for all who stay, then I remind you that Kahgli holds justice as highly as our integrity, and I intend to pursue justice for Kazunki. I will not hold my hand until those who struck Kazunki face Mahal before the rest of us. This clan will not harbor murderers.”

When Derfrulia finished her stern words, no one moved or spoke. The clan head turned her back to us to face the river, and remained there with Yanna and Ankulaz flanking her when Merruli and Jiri urged the rest of us to our feet. We were to return to whatever tasks had occupied them before the summons.

As I climbed to my feet, Kíli rose beside me, one hand on Mhornar’s side as if for comfort.

“Strong words,” I murmured.

My brother’s eyes were grim and dark. “Did you notice who wasn’t here to hear them?”

My eyebrows went up. “No. Who?”

Kíli scanned about us once more, as if to make sure of his answer. When he leaned close, his voice was nothing but a whisper.

“Where’s Naggrundaz?”


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As straightforward as a funeral is on the grass, the swirl around it is anything but.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having Issi yank Fíli's mustache braids is an homage to Kíli's daughter, Míriel, who will arrive some sixty years from now (see "Innikh Dê" here on AO3). Kíli surely imagined his small, gleeful daughter gracing Fíli with such caresses because of those Issi gives his brother in this chapter. Fíli would have made a champion uncle, and that is just one more reason why Kíli will miss his big brother so much after the fight for Erebor.

Fíli craned his head around, looking for Naggrundaz, Ankulaz’s remaining second. When he didn’t find the Urghul Dwarf, his eyes met mine with the same look he gave me when considering the bullies in Thorin’s Halls.

“Attending the body, do you think?” he asked.

That was plausible, and likely, but both my brother and I had a jaded outlook on the habits of sneaks, and we both thought Grun was a sneak. I scanned the folk around us again, only to discover that someone else was missing.

“Cyth’s nowhere, either,” I said.

“She isn’t.” Fíli looked at me askance, and shook his head. “ _Dahaut_ , brother. We’re a suspicious pair.”

“With reason. Do you think we ought to look for her? Just... to make sure?”

“He doesn’t have any reason to... do anything to her,” Fíli hedged.

“Maybe not,” I countered. “But she’s got more than enough reason to keep her eye on him.”

Fíli let us get another couple of paces on before he spoke. “We can’t take long, Kíl. We’re supposed to help Ilka with the supper. Ilka, not Cyth. Doesn’t that say that the clan expected Cyth not to be making the supper?”

“Ye-e-es,” I conceded. “But shouldn’t we ask someone, at least?”

“That’s a better plan than to blunder about in things we don’t know the first thing about,” Fíli agreed. “Derfrulia and Yanna are still at the river with Ankulaz, but maybe Merruli? Or Ferrin or Mulgrum?”

“I don’t see Ferrin, either, now that I want to find him. Or Mulgrum,” I commented. “Look, there’s Merruli. Let’s ask before he disappears, too.”

Fíli skipped off through the flow of folk, so Mhornar and I dodged after. The pony master Fíli asked in his most diplomatic manner after Cyth, but Merruli’s eyes sharpened in amusement.

“Worried about your supper, lads? Ilka’s a fine cook in her own right, I promise you.”

“Oh, of course she is,” Fíli fumbled. “In fact, she’s recruited us to help, too, so...”

“Ah. You’re worried about your turn as cook’s help.” The pony master’s grin was teasing, as if Fíli and I were bairns looking to get out of an unpleasant chore.

“Of course not!” Fíli looked exasperated as well as embarrassed. “It’s just that –”

“We didn’t see Grun, either, and we – uh, we were... concerned,” I floundered.

Merruli’s grin faded. “Ah. You took my words to heart, then, and you’re keeping an eye out, and for more than yourself, for which I thank you. Cyth’s well and hale. As retired matriarch, she keeps watch on the dead, as is respectful. As a dam no less suspicious than Kahgli’s two newest hunters, she also keeps watch that everyone else is respectful of the dead, too.”

“And Ferrin, too, yes?” Fíli guessed. Why did he say that? Oh, the answer was obvious as soon as I thought about it – Ferrin was Derfrulia’s oldest son, which meant seniority in clan matters. No matter what Grun’s standing in Urghul was, it wouldn’t compare to Kahgli’s senior matriarch and eldest son, which meant he couldn’t do anything sneaky.

“Just so,” Merruli nodded. He pointed to the storage tent, where Ankulaz ducked inside. “Cyth and Ferrin will sit with Ankulaz and Grun for the night’s observance while the rest of us see to the herd. If you lads would fiddle a tune or two for the dead, that’d be kind.”

“Drekkani told me as much, but I thought he meant tomorrow,” Fíli said.

“Tonight’s the reflection,” Merruli explained. “Tomorrow’s just the giving back to the grass.”

“Ah,” Fíli said, quirking his eyebrows at me. At my nod, my brother turned back to the pony master. “We’ll be glad to offer a tune. Just say the word.”

“Right after supper, then. Slow and serious is best, and no more than four tunes. Don’t spend yourselves too much, for you’ll be on the grass for some if not all of the night. All of us will, so that everyone has a chance to offer their voices to the dead.”

That was impressive, I thought; to offer so much respect to an outsider from a clan that Kahgli held in such little regard.

“Aye, you’re right that we don’t hold Urghul in much regard, young Kíli,” Merruli said softly.

My face flamed because I hadn’t realized that I’d spoken aloud. Fíli’s tsk and punch on my shoulder only reinforced my embarrassment.

“I-I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“You spoke nothing but the truth, and better it’s out in the air than simmering in someone’s heart,” Merruli replied. “You’re from the king’s clan, so you likely know more about the price of feuds than not. So let me speak plainly. When Heglor, my sister, Yanna’s mother, died, Derfrulia swore that Clan Kahgli would never stoop to the depths that Urghul did, whether for gain or no. Yet someone has, and no one can say whether Urghul turned on its own, or Kahgli stooped to the depths that Derfrulia swore we’d reject. So Kahgli will offer every ritual, every mark of respect, and every consideration in full, to honor the dead, yes, but also to remind ourselves of who we are.”

I brought up my hands in Kahgli’s mark of respect, and offered a bow. I wasn’t surprised that my brother had the same thought.

“Clan Durin offers its respect with yours,” Fíli said simply. “We’re honored that you spoke to us as you did.”

“Good lads,” Merruli offered us respect in return. Then he grinned. “’T is time for you to be at the hearth, then. We’ll be eating at all times tonight, so see to it that you help Ilka. She’ll tell you when to bring your fiddles to the storage tent. After that, look for Drekkani and Arkhanneh to take you out on the grass.”

“Yes, sir,” we chorused, and I followed my brother back to the family tent.

“I’m glad we asked,” I ventured. “All this pretending around things is wearing.”

“Aye, you tried to sleep through those parts of Master Balin’s lessons often enough,” Fíli grinned.

“That’s because I felt the truth behind the words more often than you did, doh kro,” I shot back. “I didn’t need to hear Master Balin read to me out of a book. I had the truth of fights and feuds and whatever else of pounded into me harder than listening to Master Balin drone could ever manage.”

Fíli winced, which made me wince in return, so I gave Fíli’s arm a playful punch to show him that the black despair that had nearly claimed me in Thorin’s Halls was truly gone.

“I’m well now, brother. And while all the dodging and fighting I did in Thorin’s Halls was _dahaut kurvanog_ , it’s made me sharp, and that’s all to the good out here.”

My brother’s pained grimace crumbled into a crooked smile, and he clapped my shoulder in reluctant agreement. “Aye, you’ve got your senses about you, I’ll grant you that, and welcome. Eerily fucking second, indeed.”

I had a big smile on my face as we went into the tent with Mhornar on my heels.

We arrived in good time. Ilka had her hands full between all the cooking and Issi’s antics, who fussed and got in the way despite her tether to her dam’s sleeping platform. My brother swept her up into his arms before the mite could yank the edge of Ilka’s tunic, and rolled onto the stack of folded blankets with her to make all sorts of funny noises. That delighted the bairn enough that she laughed uproariously with her tiny hands waving. A laugh was not the reaction those tiny hands got when they grabbed Fíli’s mustache braids and yanked hard – no, Fíli’s agonized yelp made both Ilka and me laugh.

“Valar, bairn!” Fíli said, struggling to get his braids out of such tight little fists. “Those are attached, and I’d like them to remain that way! Kíli, help!”

Ilka handed me her big spoon and pointed to the pot simmering on the fire, so I duly stirred the stew while the dam rescued Fíli from the ravages of a gleeful bairn. She quickly sorted the three of us out, loosening Issi’s death grip on Fíli’s braids, showing my brother how to shorten the bairn’s tether to keep her safely atop the platform, rescuing her daughter’s chiming cloth ball, and then telling me to start laying the bits of meat I’d chopped earlier onto the grill. While Fíli happily played with the bairn, I learned the nuances of how to produce grilled meat that wasn’t burnt on the outside yet raw on the inside. Before long, I had a platter full of grilled bits, and Ilka, Fíli, and I ate our fill before the rest of the tent’s occupants appeared. While Fíli learned to grill, I took over amusing the bairn, then fed her a bowl of gruel without making too much of a mess of either of us. Merruli and Barkhuzi appeared long enough to sweep a platter of meat and the pot of stew off for those sitting vigil, so Ilka began another pot of stew to replace it. Eventually we had enough food ready for whoever came in to eat, so Ilka sent my brother and me off with our fiddles to do our turn for Kazunki.

As before, Mhornar left Alabrin with Rinnala, and trotted along behind us as we made our way between the tents. The sun had fallen; the stars were out, and shone brilliantly down on us. Master Balin had told me once that the Elvish folk didn’t sleep as Dwarves did, but merely stood in the starlight to take their refreshment from the brilliant light that came from the night sky. I had been a very small bairn with he’d told me that, and I’d innocently assumed that if the stars supplied Elvish sleep, then the sun and the moon must supply Elvish nourishment, which meant they didn’t need to eat at all. How Master Balin had laughed when I’d told him that!

My amusement faded when we came to the supply tent. Goods had been stacked outside to make room for Kazunki’s body, and a pair of hunters and several dogs stood watch to keep everything safe from night creatures looking for an easy meal. Merruli guarded the front of the tent, and from inside we heard the low strains of a flute weaving the notes of a lament. Fíli and I had already decided the several songs we’d play, so we waited in silence until my mentor Arkhanneh appeared with her flute. Merruli told us to sit just inside the tent while the next musician played, so that we’d see how the laments were done. I bade Mhornar to remain with Merruli, then in we went, folding ourselves down on our knees as Drekkani moved forward to play his shepherd’s pipes in his choice of sad tunes.

I took the chance to look about the tent. Kazunki’s body lay prone on the ground, wrapped in a ribbon of fine linen. From the outline under the linen, his body had been divested of clothing and trappings – yes, his boots stood watch at his feet atop his pack, his furred cap and hood lay at his head, and the rest of his clothing lay folded in two neat stacks to either side. His sturdy bow and quiver full of white-fletched arrows lay on his breast atop the linen, as did a matched pair of utilitarian knives.

Ankulaz kneeled at his cousin’s right by his head, and a more disconsolate sight I hadn’t seen in many a day. The Urghul heir’s head was bowed, and his hands lay in his lap, worrying the amulets he usually wore about his neck – no, his necklace was still in place; perhaps this one had been Kazunki’s. As dour a Dwarf as Kazunki had been, the cousin he left behind missed him greatly.

Naggrundaz knelt beside Ankulaz by Kazunki’s feet. He, too, had lowered his head, but his attitude reflected little of the grief that filled Ankulaz. In fact, he sat motionless, displaying not much of anything, as if he merely waited for the vigil to pass.

At Kazunki’s head sat Cyth, and at his feet sat Ferrin. Both were impassive, accepting of the inevitability of death, perhaps. Ferrin’s mien was calm if alert, without any visible upset or concern. Likewise, Cyth’s posture was upright, easy, without tension, but I definitely had the sense of watchfulness and vigil from her that had little to do with the solemnity of the occasion. Yes, her eyes were on Kazunki, but...

When I pursue prey in dim light, I never look directly at the object of my pursuit. I look near it, because my side vision is much better at picking up movement. So if Cyth looked directly at Kazunki, it was only to keep Ankulaz and Grun solidly in her side vision.

Wary matriarch, indeed.

Drekkani offered four airs on his pipes, then touched his forehead to the linen covering Kazunki’s body. He rose, offered bows to first Ankulaz, then Grun, then silently backed out of the tent. We knew what to do, then. We took Drekkani’s place, quickly tuned our fiddles, and gave our solemn laments and elegies to the dead. I let Fíli make his bows to the dead and the living, then made mine, and backed out after my brother.

As we put our fiddles back in their bags, Mhornar rose from her crouch beside Merruli to come to my side; I gave her a grateful caress for standing her faithful watch. From inside the tent, a dam’s ululating voice rose in a song so sad that it brought a lump to my throat. It must’ve taken Fíli with equal force, because we were silent as we paced back to the tent. I was glad to see the cheerful light of the lamp beside the glowing hearth again.

Ilka told us how to keep watch over the hearth and Issi while she offered her respects. This time, Fíli was quick to send me to the bairn’s side to amuse her while he and his affronted mustaches stirred the stew, and made sure the biscuits didn’t burn. I had the better end of that, for Issi was mostly asleep, and played only for a few minutes before she tried to crawl into my lap. She butted my chest, which made me laugh.

“I’m not fit to feed you like that, silly bairn,” I teased her. “But maybe a bit more gruel would do until your Maamr comes back? Fíl, is there any gruel left?”

“Stew and meat and berry chew,” my brother replied, casting me a puzzled look. “What do you want gruel for?”

“Not for me, doh kro. For the bairn! I can’t feed her the way Ilka does, can I?”

Fíli snorted in laughter. “Valar, no. Um, I think I can make porridge...”

“It’d take too long, and Issi’s almost asleep. Would you put a bit of broth in a teacup?”

Fíli ladled the broth out, so I carefully carried the sleepy bairn to the hearth and cradled her in my lap. I dipped my smallest finger into the broth and gave it to her to gnaw, which seemed to please her well enough. Fíli stirred and stoked the fire as it needed, and that’s how Ilka found us when she’d done her turn. The dam put her arms akimbo – Cyth’s mannerisms had clearly rubbed off on her – and gave us a genial chuckle.

“Issi’s found another pair of doting uncles, I see. And the hearth is all in order.” We gained a solid nod of approval. “Good, the little one is asleep – she usually fusses for one last feeding.”

“She got a bit of one, after a fashion.” I tried to ease my finger out of Issi’s mouth, but the bairn roused in complaint, so I dipped my finger in the broth and gave it back to her. “Not milk, but good enough until Maamr came back.”

Ilka folded herself down in the clan’s graceful way beside me, already unfastening the top of her tunic. She beckoned to me, so I eased my finger from Issi’s mouth, and handed her carefully to her mother, who put her to the breast before the bairn noticed I was gone. Laughably, Issi managed no more than a few mouthfuls before she fell solidly asleep.

“Your braids are safe now, brother,” I teased Fíli, who stroked his plaits as if to make sure they were still in place.

Ilka grinned, knowing what had held Issi’s fascination so well. “Eat the rest of your supper, if you haven’t already, lads. Drekkani and Arkhanneh will be here shortly to take you out on the grass.”

I wolfed several more bits of grilled antelope, a bowl of the stew, and a wedge of biscuit, then we went to our space to see how Rinnala fared. She looked up at us plaintively, but despite her sad expression, she seemed easy enough, and she’d made no attempt to chew at her bandages. I motioned to Alabrin, who came quickly enough, as if he knew that Ilka would see to Rinnala while he was gone.

“Watch over Fíli tonight, Alabrin,” I explained. “He doesn’t have Rinnala to help him tonight, so he’ll need all of the guidance you give me so well. Can you do that, my brave lad?”

“He should stay with you, Kíl,” Fíli protested. “I’ll make do with one of the unattached dogs.”

“I can do that, too, and I’ll have Mhornar to watch over me,” I insisted. “Alabrin knows you, and he’s worked with you, so I want you to have him for the watch.”

“That’s generous of you, Kíl. Thanks.”

“Welcome. Now, the necessary. Before we venture on the grass.”

“Wise,” agreed my brother, so we hurried off. We found Vikken to ask for another dog for us, and he readily agreed, although I could have made do with just Mhornar. Both of the remaining Urghul Dwarves would not see the grass tonight, but they weren’t the only creatures we needed to watch out for, and I felt better having another experienced partner to help keep us safe and straight. We found Drekkani and Arkhanneh, and collected ponies for the task ahead.

Neither of our mentors said much that they hadn’t said before. We’d ride out among the ponies to make our presence known, which reassured the stock as much as it discouraged the predators. But tonight was different, all the same. This was the first night that Fíli and I weren’t merely trainees. We’d be on our own, dependent on only our ponies, our dogs, and our senses for the night. It was likely we’d stand for more than two hours, too, given the need to fill the night hours in the supply tent with homage.

We rode out at a walk, gliding through the scattered ponies as easily as mist. Fíli and Drekkani peeled off before long, leaving Arkhanneh and me to continue our way. Before we got out too far, the dam drew near, and pointed back towards the tents. I couldn’t see the mast, but a bright spark of flame marked Kahgli’s camp.

“That’s the night beacon, as you know,” the dam reminded me. “Fix how the river of stars lies overhead, and remember how it moves as the hours pass. Those two things will bring you home safely.”

“I’ll remember,” I promised.

“Good. Now, tonight you do all as you’ve learned, with one exception. I don’t expect any of the ponies to drop a foal tonight, but if you do, keep careful watch. That’s when a wolf will strike, before the little one is steady on its feet. Yell loud enough for Mahal to hear you if anything goes amiss, and whoever’s in earshot will come.”

“Same for the goats?” I asked.

“They don’t like the flat, but they’re unpredictable, so yes, see to the kids if you come across one.”

“I will,” I assured my mentor firmly.

“Good watch, then,” Arkhanneh wished me, and moved off into the dark.

I was on my own.

Perversely, I grinned. I wasn’t afraid, because the stars seemed comforting, and my pony was the sturdy Lissa that I liked so much, and Mhornar and Shathtosti ranged just on either side of me. I took a deep breath, settled into the saddle, and listened for a long moment, until I knew the step of the ponies, the whuff of the dogs, and the stamp of Lissa’s foot. I gave one last look behind me at the beacon fire before I urged Lissa to walk forward into the peaceful night.

I hoped the night stayed peaceful.

 

* * *

 

Perhaps the Valar took pity on Clan Kahgli, or perhaps Kahgli’s scrupulous attention to the rites of the dead pleased them, because my night was quiet. Many hours passed, but I saw little beyond the stars wheeling overhead, and the shadowy ponies drifting over the grass like low clouds. I heard no howling wolves, nor whickers of pony dams laboring to birth their foals. Mhornar and Shathtosti kept a quiet but alert watch around me, and I heard but the rare whuff out of either. I passed Fíli once during the night, smiling at his soft singing of a song we both liked, and added my voice to his as we met. A few shared words confirmed that he’d seen nothing more eventful than I had, so we passed on our ways. The stars had turned enough for me to think that dawn would soon veil them in light when Arkhanneh’s gravelly voice calling my name drew me near.

“There you are, Kíli,” the old dam greeted me. “We’ve been relieved, so back to the tents with the both of us. Any sight or sound to pass on?”

“Naught but whuffling ponies,” I replied, daring to stretch my arms overhead in a welcome crackle of joints.

“Good,” Arkhanneh replied with satisfaction. “Mahal, and won’t our beds feel fine after such a long stint?”

“Yah,” I yawned with complete agreement. “If we get to see them before this night’s gone and the next one is on its way. We have to see to Kazunki, don’t we?”

“We’ll have a few hours of rest, I expect, enough to see us through the day. Not enough that you won’t long for it tomorrow as well as today, though.”

I’d expected that, just as I expected Arkhanneh to ask me to set the path home. She wanted to make sure her lessons had sunk into my noggin, so, I gauged the sky and turned us around, back towards the tent. She followed me without comment, smiling when we drew close enough to the tents for me to see the beacon fire and correct a bit. We paced home with dogs in tow without incident, and soon led our ponies into the briar enclosure to strip them of their tack. Because we’d walked so slowly home, the dam assured me that it was fine for me to give Mhornar and Shathtosti their meat of the morn straightaway. I did so yawning and gaping like a beached fish, but remembered to feed the fire under the wash kettle, hang the cleaned bowls, and return Shathtosti to the flight of unattached dogs before I went back to the tent. I remembered to visit the necessary, too, then staggered into the tent almost too sleepy to eat. Fíli and Alabrin were still out, and a few folk slept in their spaces, so I was quiet as I stuffed three bowls of stew down my throat followed by several good hot cups of tea. Then I settled Mhornar underneath my bed, gave Rinnala a pat, and then gratefully stretched out atop my blankets. I was asleep before I ever thought to strip off my clothes.

I woke far sooner than I wanted, and by almost the only thing that could do so – the sound of a whimpering dog. If the sound alone wasn’t enough, the poke of two narrow noses reinforced the urgency. I rolled over with a groan to find Mhornar on her feet, the better to poke her nose at me.

“What?” I groaned, trying to fend her off. “Go back to sleep, you silly thing! No, stop it!”

Mhornar was insistent, and finally I woke enough to register that she was not the only dog whose nose thought it was so much fun to poke me. I rolled over again to push Rinnala away.

“Oh and oh, not you, too!” I whined. “Stop! Fíli, you doh kro, tell your dog to let me sleep! _Skator_ , Fíl! Fíli!”

Rinnala was the only occupant of my brother’s bed. That snapped my eyes open wide. No wonder Rinnala had poked me! She was likely starving, and her bladder had to be full to bursting. I groped for my clothes, realized I still had them on, and hurried to help the poor queen off the cot. She ran out of the tent at once, so I sent Mhornar after her while I pulled on my boots. Both dogs flitted out past the tents to relieve themselves; I followed more slowly to the necessary. Next, stop, the dog’s tent for Rinnala’s breakfast, though I fed Mhornar a few chunks just for form’s sake. By then, Fíli’s queen wasn’t so frantic, and mine had finally decided that she’d given me enough reproachful looks. I groomed them both, and checked that Rinnala’s bandage was clean and dry.

Wolfhound emergency handled. So where was Fíli?

No one was in a panic, so I had to believe that Fíli had just ended up with a longer stint on the grass than I did.

The only answer to that was to have breakfast.

Cyth was still away from the hearth, and Ilka was asleep. I got my breakfast as quietly as possible, and found leftover grilled meat, cold biscuits, and stew made a satisfying dent in my hunger. The teakettle was dry, so I fetched a pair of the water skins and walked with the dogs to the river to fill them. On the way back to the tent, I spotted a trio of ponies, two of which bore tired Dwarves back to the camp. One was Fíli, and the other was Drekkani, and a rough-coated brown pony followed of her own accord. I gave them both a wave, and hurried after them. Drekkani urged his pony on faster, leaving Fíli and the dam to follow more slowly.

Was that a tiny foal across his pony’s withers?

I ran back to the tent to drop off the water skins, only to find Drekkani rushing out of it with Yanna right behind. I returned the filled skins to their spots, and ran after the Kahgli heir and my brother’s mentor –

Oh, Valar, Rinnala and Mhornar! They’d just eaten!

I slowed to a walk, and kept Rinnala especially beside me; she’d had a full meal, not just the token tidbit or two I’d given Mhornar. I reached the excitement in time to see Fíli hand down a tiny foal into Yanna’s eager arms – a foal mottled all over with spots.

“Oh, and oh!” I exclaimed in glee, as Fíli climbed wearily out of his saddle to slide to the grass. “Shar’s got a little brother or sister with the same spots, yes?”

Yanna set the little thing down on its wobbly legs, and saw it caper to its dam for a much needed suckle. As soon as it settled to its meal, Yanna strode to Fíli and threw her arms around him and gave him the most emphatic embrace I’d ever seen a maid give a lad. Despite how tired he was, Fíli was his usual charming self, and didn’t turn a hair when Yanna planted a loud kiss on his cheek.

I, on the other hand, turned bright red. I had a long path ahead of me before I’d be comfortable with such things. I felt like I intruded on a private, personal moment, even though several other folk had collected around the new foal to grin at Yanna’s exuberance. I still had to look elsewhere, so I scanned the camp, the flight of unattached dogs racing over the grass just outside of camp, noting the bleats that came from the goat pen and the whinny of a pony in the briar enclosure –

Ankulaz and Grun stood outside the supply tent, watching us.

I gave no sign that I’d noticed them, but I didn’t think the passing of their clan brother was the only reason for their glowering faces.

I was distracted enough that I didn’t hear much of Fíli’s tale, how he’d come upon the new foal’s mother in the midst of her labors, and stood careful watch to see the small one’s safe arrival into Middle Earth. The mare had been secretive, standing so far away from the camp that his relief hadn’t found him when Arkhanneh had found me. So he’d stayed until dawn to ensure the foal’s successful delivery. As soon as he’d seen the spotted coat, he’d known how important the foal would be to Yanna, and so had brought her and her dam back to camp. Drekkani had found him soon after dawn, and joined him to ensure the spotted foal’s safe delivery into Yanna’s hands.

“Well done, brother!” I pounded Fíli’s back with enthusiasm, as Alabrin rose to his hindquarters to bounce his front paws off my back. “And you, too, bonny lad! You helped to guard the spotted foal!”

“And we’re both right knackered,” Fíli admitted, giving his most appreciative smile to the Dwarf maid he’d reduced to elated laughter. “Alabrin was the best all night. Yes, you were, my lad! You kept me straight all night!”

“And half the morn, too,” I yawned. “Go on, take care of your pony. I’ll see to Alabrin.”

“I have to feed Rinnala anyway,” Fíli protested.

“I fed and brushed her, so she’s ready to accompany you in a nap,” I assured him. “Go on! I’m for a nap myself once Alabrin’s fed.”

“Thanks, Kíli,” Fíli managed, before Yanna gave him another hug. It was all very exciting, the arrival of a spotted foal, and the safe journey of the little one and her dam back to the camp, and a growing crowd of folk who wanted to see the new arrival. I left them to their animated chattering to see to Alabrin. Rinnala immediately clove to Fíli’s side, but Mhornar accompanied me to see to Alabrin. He ate well, and didn’t fuss when I brushed him, nor did he snap when I drew out a small barb from his paw. By the time I got back to the tent, Fíli was sound asleep, and in the blessed absence of any other demand on my time, I crawled back atop my cot and went right back to sleep as if I’d never been awakened.

Ilka roused us some hours later. I still felt the lack of sleep, but not as I had when the dogs had wakened me. We shared stew and bread by the hearth until Derfrulia came in to tell us that all were assembling to take Kazunki on his final journey across the grass. No, we were not to dress in our best things; it was more honorable to take the journey as working hunters. Still, Fíli and I redid our braids and made sure we were presentable before we left the tent to join the procession.

The only thing that distinguished this parade of Dwarves from a line of hunters was the body bound to the back of a hunter’s pony, as opposed to a pack pony. Barkhuzi and Klyn rode with us to explain that the hunter’s pony honored the dead and denoted him as a provider for the clan, rather than as a useless bit of baggage, which is what a pack pony would have implied. Most of Kahgli was in the procession; all that was missing was a skeleton crew to oversee the herds during Kazunki’s last journey over the grass. That, too, was an honor, to have all of the clan’s most senior members in the procession. At the head of the procession was Derfrulia with Yanna and Ferrin on either side of her, and Mulgrum and Merruli on either side of them. Just behind rode Ankulaz and Grun with the pony bearing Kazunki’s body between them. The rest of the clan followed in no order. There was no singing, and very little talking, and what little there was remained subdued.

The procession traveled for more than an hour across the grass. At some spot, Derfrulia drew her pony to a stop, and the rest of us did likewise. I can’t say what drove the horse maid to stop here rather than any other place on the grass, for it had the same clear view to the northwest of the northernmost end of the Blue Mountains, and of the same frothy pearlescence to the northeast that hid the icy Bay of Forochel. For whatever reason, the procession stopped, and everyone dismounted. There was no ceremony, or singing, or words, or anything other than silence and stillness as Ankulaz and Grun lowered Kazunki’s corpse from the pony that had borne it, and laid it on the ground. The heir unwound the linen from the body, leaving the empty husk to lie unadorned on the bare ground. Even Kazunki's clan bead had been removed. Another silent moment more, then everyone remounted, and turned back towards the camp for the trip home.

As I looked back at the small, stiff corpse, I felt none of the repulsion or squeamishness I’d half expected to plague me at my first sight of a dead Dwarf. But the body no longer looked like Kazunki – in fact, it looked no different than any other carrion that fell to the earth. I suppose that was why Kahgli didn’t bury or burn its dead. It accepted that we all would fall one day, and considered it fitting to leave life as we came to it, naked and without adornment.

I had a fanciful thought that those who fell on the grass sank into the earth as soon as the living rode out of sight. What was better than to become part of the living grass after a lifetime spent riding across it?

It seemed far better a resting place for one’s bones than a dark prison of stone, especially one deep within a lost kingdom.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clan Urghul gives pause in private as well as in public. The public instance is shocking enough, but the private instance will have more ramifications, unless Clan Durin realizes the danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> fo drualtys = Elf touched (Dwarvish; derogatory)  
> feohdys = abomination (Dwarvish)

**_Yesterday Afternoon_ **

_Once the supply tent was emptied, Grun and Ankulaz lifted Kazunki’s body in its canvas sling to carry it inside. Several Dwarves came forward to help, raising Grun’s hackles. His gaze flitted to Ankulaz, but the heir was too numb to stop them. It fell to him, then._

_“The burden is ours,” Grun said. “It is Urghul’s burden.”_

_Most of the Kahgli vermin stepped back._

_Good. Fewer eyes –_

_“Kahgli will help you bear it.”_

_That came from the matriarch, damn her. Grun didn’t have the rank to stop her from taking hold of the canvas. She wasn’t alone, either – her eldest son stood with her, and also the old crone who’d eyed him and Ankulaz with such pointed menace since they’d arrived. To meet the latter’s eyes was to know that a Kahgli dam had let a viper slither inside her, and then had birthed the result._

_If only the result would fall victim to the fangs of her own kind._

_They carried Kazunki’s body into the storage tent and laid it softly down on the grass. Good; the matriarch and her son drew Ankulaz out for the usual blather about the fallen. That would give Grun time to –_

_The crone, snakes take her, folded herself down on her heels at Kazunki’s head. She met his gaze with a faint, challenging smile, and gestured for him to seat himself at Kazunki’s side._

_“We will honor Kazunki together, so that he is not left alone before the vigil.”_

_Grun kept his face impassive as he sat by Kazunki’s hip, leaving the heir’s spot at Kazunki’s shoulder for Ankulaz, for all that doing so rankled._

_He did not meet the crone’s eyes again. She already knew too much._

 

* * *

 

**_Earlier Today_ **

_At last, the interminable vigil was over! What a relief it was to move again, to follow Ankulaz out of the stuffy tent and into the clear, open air again. It was past dawn, and time to rest before Kazunki took his last journey across the grass at noon. Clan Kahgli was astir, with folk riding out to relieve those who shepherded the herd across the grass. What riches there were here, riches well worth taking –_

_The Durin heir drew his pony to a halt by the mares’ enclosure. He bore a new foal across his saddle – Mahal, a spotted one? How much gold would that rare creature bring? If only he could get his hands on the thing..._

_Grun cast furtive glances around him. No, the Durin’s gangrel second heir was elsewhere. There was another wretched creature he could do without, even if he wasn’t the magic wielder Kazunki had thought him. If only he were as young and stupid as he looked, but no... he was preternaturally quick to sense any and everything around him, and even quicker to act on the knowledge. Grun liked meeting his eyes no more than he liked meeting the crone’s eyes. Both were clear-eyed, and quick to divine truth._

_When the Kahgli heiress threw her arms around the Durin heir and graced him with an emphatic kiss, Grun veiled an anticipatory shiver of excitement with a glowering scowl._

_“Didn’t take him long, did it?” he murmured to Ankulaz._

_Ankulaz didn’t stir from his dull stupor. Grief and the interminable vigil over the body of Ankulaz’s beloved cousin had sapped the heir’s usually formidable strength, and he wasn’t far from dropping in his tracks._

_If only Grun had a full skin of arkhi to help that along! That’s when Urghul’s Heir pleased Grun most, when he was as blind and stupid as a mole, and Grun didn’t have to hide his disgust. Urghul’s Heir, no less than his father, Urghul’s Patriarch, was scum, and good only to prove that Mahal, the so-called great Valar smith who had made the Dwarves, was a fool as well as an idiot. All that kept Tobazel patriarch of Urghul was a foul temper and bluster that no one dared cross, even when the fool was in his cups. If only the gangrel Durin archer had not been so sure of his aim as he had been of Tobazel’s insult! And Ankulaz... he was heir only by accident of birth. He was weak and suspicious, far from the measure of even his idiot father, and nothing more._

_Fuck both of them with a rusty fleshing knife._

_Better to call them Urghul’s_ feohdys _– Urghul’s abomination._

_Grun spat, but on the ground, not in Ankulaz’s face, as he deserved._

_“Look at them,” Grun prodded, nudging Ankulaz’s shoulder. “No respect for the dead, have they? Gloating like that – even courting.”_

_The reference to the fallen Kazunki who had followed Ankulaz with such blind, stoic devotion was enough to rouse Urghul’s heir to lift his gaze. He took in the joyous Kahgli maid with little interest, which suited Grun well. His words, however, did not suit Grun at all._

_“Both of them have offered nothing but respect. The second Durin heir even offered respect he didn’t need to when he thanked my cousin for his words of advice. And the rest were more respectful than Tobazel would have credited.”_

_“The gangrel one is_ fo drualtys _, so not in his right mind in any case. As for the rest of them, they lied because Derfrulia told them to do so, as if we were too stupid not to know. Underneath her compulsion is nothing but a dam’s rage and resentment of her betters. And underneath the compliance of her folk is the same rage and resentment.”_

_“You don’t know what you say.”_

_“Don’t I? One of them killed your cousin. Was that an act of respect?”_

_Grun was greatly pleased when Ankulaz found no answer._

_As soon as they returned from dumping Kazunki out on the grass, Grun would soak Urghul’s abomination of an heir in as much arkhi as he could beg, borrow, or steal._

_* * *_

 

**Now**

 

I rode away from Kazunki’s resting place in silence. Last night, Kahgli, Kíli, and I had offered the fallen Dwarf our songs of lament and farewell, as well as our salutes. Now, we offered mute witness as his kinsmen returned him to the grass, but the cold, stiff corpse stripped of all adornment, even his clan bead, powerfully reminded me that each of us left this life as we entered it, bare and without artifice. I had much to think about as the clan turned back towards our camp.

“Why do we stop?” Kíli murmured, looking around us.

“I don’t know,” I replied, as the rest of our companions slowed, turned their ponies back towards Kazunki, and waited. “The last part of the ritual, maybe?”

Yanna drew her pony to a stop beside mine. “We give those who wish it a private moment before leaving the fallen to the grass. At the same time, we stay close enough to protect the living, whether from wolves, the weather, or other danger. The grass gives us life, yes, but we are not so naïve as to think that it holds its hand from us when we mourn.”

The maid’s eyes were sunken and she leaned more over her saddle than was usual; she’d likely been up all night as the rest of us had, watching the herd, or tending the dead in some way. Despite her weariness, she gazed steadily at Kazunki’s body, or maybe at Ankulaz and Grun who knelt beside it. The heir cast himself down on the breast of his dead cousin and clasped it with clear sorrow; even at this distance, the wind bore a faint echo of his grief, and I was hard pressed not to sympathize with it. Grun tried to offer solace, but Ankulaz shrugged off his kinsman’s hands. Grun touched his fingers to his forehead and then to that of the corpse, and rose to stand guard some few yards away while Ankulaz completed his goodbyes.

The heir of Urghul sat back on his knees by the body of his cousin, seemingly calmer. When he drew a knife from his boot, though, Kíli and I both gasped.

“Oh, Valar!” Kíli hissed. His eyes were wide and unblinking, and his body was taut. Oh and oh, I knew exactly what he thought of, because the same memory had me just as wide-eyed, just as taut. We both recalled that terrible, terrible moment of last winter, off the armory path, behind shielding rocks, where my little brother had tried to die. “Is he...?”

“Maybe it would be better if he would,” Yanna said without the least heat, but her calm sent a chill down my spine. “But then I’d never hear the whole story of what happened to my mother, and I’d have him hold his hand for that alone.”

At the cruelty of Yanna’s words, Kíli gave me a look that was shocked, appalled, terrified. My expression surely mirrored Kíli’s, but it probably included a healthy dose of disgust, too, no matter how hard I tried to school it otherwise. Everyone else around us seemed merely impassive; they’d stood a similar watch many times before, then. I fought to match their inscrutability with mine, and sat between Yanna and my brother in silence.

_Great Valar, please don’t make Kíli watch Ankulaz end his life as he almost did last winter, please..._

Ankulaz bowed his head for a final time, then raised his knife to the sky.

I turned towards Kíli to tell him to shut his eyes, but his eyes were already shut, and his head was bowed. His knuckles were white against his saddle, but he held still. I was as hard-pressed as he was to sit my pony so quietly, especially when the Urghul heir turned his knife towards his neck, and...

Ankulaz cut off one of his braids with a quick, jerky slash of his knife.

Oh, thank the Valar.

I tried to swallow, but my mouth was as dry as dust. It took several tries before I found enough breath to whisper reassurance to Kíli. I was glad I made the effort; when my brother’s eyes fluttered open, they were panicky. But he calmed as soon as he realized that Ankulaz had not drawn blood, and he was able to bear the sight of Ankulaz slashing every one of his braids off at shoulder level, all but the clan braid at his left ear.

I winced, not because Ankulaz willingly sacrificed his hair, but because of how ferociously he did so, as if each braid were a limb of flesh and blood. He left the severed plaits on the corpse’s upturned chest, even the clan beads, and raked his fingers through his remaining hair to unwind the twists. As he remounted his pony, he looked like an ashen specter with his cropped blond hair whipping in the wind, as frothy as a burst seedpod.

Grun mounted after his heir, and both rode slowly towards the rest of us. As Kahgli turned towards home, a quartet of riders circled back to act as rearguard for the mourning Urghuls. Yanna turned her horse to fall in line with her grandmother and uncles, leaving Kíli and me to close ranks. Neither of us had any urge to talk, so we turned towards home together in silence.

I couldn’t speak as to what Kíli thought about, but I was relieved that no one had died this afternoon. Even so, I contemplated the nature of loss. Where one Dwarf revealed it in laments and ritual sacrifice, another did so in cruel anger.

How much truth lay in either?

I would likely never know.

 

* * *

 

As we rode back towards the tents, Dwarves peeled off in pairs to resume their watch over the ponies scattered over the grass. Kíli and Arkhanneh were soon one of those pairs; they and their dogs trotted off to the northeast, leaving Rinnala and me to continue on towards the tents. My pretty maid had made the journey to see Kazunki returned to the grass without hardship, but with her stitches she wasn’t yet fit to chase wolves, so we were one of the few hunting pairs who accompanied Derfrulia and the two Urghul Dwarves all the way back to camp.

By the time we reached the tents, over three quarters of the clan had dispersed; those who remained went back to righting the camp. It was hard to remember that we’d arrived at our summer quarters not even a full day ago, and much still remained to be done. We had many ponies, goats, horses, and dogs to see to. Supplies needed to go back into their tent. All of the hunters who’d set out after antelope to make up for yesterday’s abortive hunt would soon arrive with meat to butcher. A big communal hearth was to go up in the center of the tents. A few tents still needed the last of their fittings. I thought to get Rinnala settled on my cot to rest before I jumped into the stir, but she was content to range with me as I lent a hand wherever I was directed. I fetched canvas, toted supplies, tightened tent pegs, strung rope, shoveled out the goats’ enclosure, and hauled water skins by the dozen.

Derfrulia, Cyth, and Ferrin all retreated to the family tent to rest. The latter two had been up all night with Ankulaz and Grun to watch over Kazunki’s remains; the former one had been up all night to see to the living. The camp remained in capable hands, however – Merruli, Mulgrum, and Vikken directed the arrangements. A trio of dams settled all of the clan’s bairns together on blankets with their toys in an outdoor crèche, so that the rest of the dams could lend their hands to all that needed doing. The bairns old enough to walk wandered together with an older lad to fill baskets with chipped antelope and horse droppings for fuel. The gleeful laughter of so many little ones restored a sense of lightness to the camp that I welcomed as I worked, and from the expressions on my companion’s faces, they felt no different.

The only thing to remind us of yesterday’s tragedy sat at some distance from the tents, farther away than would be safe come dusk – Ankulaz, with Grun beside him. The latter had a water skin with him, which he offered at irregular intervals to the heir. Oh and oh, I’d seen Dwarves staggering home from pubs often enough to know that Ankulaz was just as drunk as any pub denizen I’d seen. So that was likely arkhi in the skin, not water. From the way he and Grun tipped the skin up to drink deeply, they would both soon find themselves with stupendous ale heads...

Or maybe not. Ankulaz would, without doubt. Grun, however.... he drank a lot less than the heir did.

No matter what that looked like to me, it was likely prudence on Grun’s part. How many times had Kahgli told Kíli and me to go out on the grass only in the company of others? Even when we stood night duty, we went in pairs so we’d be within shouting distance of someone if we needed help. With every tent full of Dwarves who resented his intrusion, the canvas offered Ankulaz no place to give into his grief, so the grass was the only place that would give him the privacy he needed. Grun did his rightful duty to attend his clan superior in his grief, to help him ease it as well as to guard him. Thank the Valar that he did, for the amount of arkhi that Ankulaz drank was prodigious. When at last Grun seemed reluctant to pass the skin, Ankulaz grabbed it out of his second’s hands to upend it repeatedly. Before long, the heir would be in a stupor, and Grun would need help to carry him back to their tent.

When Ilka called to me with another pair of empty water skins held high, I turned my regard from the Urghul Dwarves and back to Kahgli’s need, but the sad image of the increasingly drunken Ankulaz remained in my thoughts. To see a Dwarf brought so low at the loss of a companion seemed to be the fate of too many of my folk. I thought about what Maamr and Uncle, Masters Balin and Dwalin and Oin and Gloin, and all of their contemporaries had endured when Erebor fell to the dragon, and couldn’t conceive of grief so deep, much less fathom it.

I hoped I never would.

 

* * *

 

The afternoon deepened into eve, and Cyth appeared to take charge of the communal hearth. Several pots of stew already simmered over the fire, and hunters had returned with enough antelope to provide meat for the grill. I continued to range to and fro, pitching in to help wherever I was needed. When I found no other work for my hands, I checked Rinnala’s bandages, and groomed her from top to bottom. My fancy maid offered me a gaping smile in appreciation, which was good to see, even if several more days would pass before she healed enough for her stitches to come out. After that, I took out my wolf skin and rabbit skin, and worked on them while I waited for supper.

Kíli didn’t return before the clan ate, and most of the other young Dwarves were still out, as well. Still, I had a congenial time with the hunters who had brought in the antelope. I continued to work on my hides after supper, until I was drawn to take the first watch on the clan’s beacon fire. Even though Kahgli held all chores to be equal in importance, tending the beacon fire was an especially important one. This fire helped folk find their way home every night, but was particularly crucial when the sky was moonless or overcast. It had its own hearth near the enclosures for the pony and goat dams, so it also doubled as a deterrent to wolves or foxes. Rinnala was more than happy to settle with me beside the fire, so we spent a peaceful few hours tending the flames. Some time after midnight, I was relieved, so Rinnala and I went sleepily to our tent.

Kíli still wasn’t back yet. I took a few moments to arrange our things into less of a jumble, for we’d had little time for that given the urgency to offer Kazunki’s rites. I hoped that my brother was safe with Arkhanneh, her dog Silfaevenen, Alabrin, and Mhornar out on the grass, and that the scare he’d gotten from Ankulaz’s grief this afternoon no longer plagued him.

I soon had Kíli’s cot ready for him, with blankets neatly folded and to hand, and his pack stowed underneath. Mine was just as ready, so I pulled off tunic and trews, and lay down. Rinnala settled beneath me with a sigh and a look towards where Kíli’s two dogs should be. From her whuff, she missed them as much as I missed Kíli.

I lay down, and was asleep in seconds.

 

* * *

 

The Man in the Moon had ridden to His highest above the grass, and was sinking towards His cradle in the west by the time I came back to the tents. Dawn was not far off. I’d had all night to think about Ankulaz pulling out his knife over Kazunki’s body this afternoon, and how I’d been oblivious to everything except the memory of a certain winter day when I’d tried to slash my wrists. Not even six months ago, I’d nearly drowned in black despair, and had seen nothing to do for it but die. For an instant, when Ankulaz had held up his knife to the skies, the torments of that winter’s day had resurfaced, clawing aside more rational thoughts to tell me that I was useless and worthy only of disgust. Was that how Ankulaz had felt? My wrists had seemed on fire, as if Ankulaz’s knife had drawn across them, and I’d shut my eyes, unable to bear the sight of him spilling his blood. Even when he’d turned his hand only on his hair, I flinched each time he’d drawn the knife blade across a braid.

It had taken hours before I breathed easily again. But the enveloping darkness and the need for my vigilance had eased me one small bit at a time. All the wonderful things around me on the grass had routed my resurgence of despair, and I was calm and happy again.

I was also so tired I could hardly see, but I was in no danger of falling asleep, or even of falling off my pony. I had a fractious kid tucked into my tunic that thought butting my chest was the perfect game to play on a spring night. Across my legs was a foal, no less restive. They were not my first baggage of the night; Arkhanneh and I had already found half a dozen kids and a trio of foals that we’d handed off to other folk to ferry to the protection of the clan’s enclosures. My mentor had another pair of foals on her saddle, and as we passed our relief, we pointed them to the edge of the river. We hadn’t yet checked the heavily thicketed area by the water, so the pair of Dwarves rode that way with waves of thanks.

We trotted home with does and mares in close pursuit, and not just because Arkhanneh and I bore their young; a pair of wolves continued to trail us no matter how often our dogs ran them off, irresistibly drawn by the smell of blood and the hope of an easy meal. We could have slowed our pace when another pair of Dwarves set out after the wolves, but we didn’t. Both Arkhanneh and I craved sleep and food, and our dogs were tired. We were both elated to see the beacon fire shine out to guide us home.

Kids and does went into the first enclosure under the watchful eye of a herder. Foals and mares followed into their safe refuge, and finally Arkhanneh and I could see to our ponies. Off with the tack, then careful brushes across ribs and back and down flanks and legs, then we left our sturdy mounts with the pony tenders. We were still not free to crash onto our cots, however; we had dogs to rest, groom, and feed. After all that, I was barely able to return Arkhanneh’s weary wave as she turned to her tent. To finally, finally slip off my boots inside the welcome darkness of the family tent and fumble my way to my cot was a pleasure beyond contemplation. Alabrin and Mhornar were no less exhausted, so they crept under my cot to curl beside Rinnala without delay. I thought about stopping at the hearth for stew or meat, but before I registered the thought, I was flat on my cot beside my sleeping brother. Once again, I was so tired that I never got my clothes off before I dove headlong into deep, deep sleep.

When I woke up, the morn was half over. Fíli and Rinnala were gone, but my dogs still napped under my cot. I felt smothered – of course I did; I’d fallen asleep with all of my clothes on again. I pulled my tunic and trews off and laid back down again, half expecting someone to call me to breakfast or some task, but when they didn’t, I drifted off again. I woke up perhaps an hour or more later, and felt better for it. Now I felt as if I’d actually slept. On the other hand, I was ravenous, because I hadn’t eaten last night. Cyth wasn’t by the hearth, but there was plenty of tea, porridge, and leftover food from last night’s supper, so I begged Mhornar and Alabrin’s indulgence was I wolfed down a bowl of porridge and grabbed a double handful of biscuits to tide me over until I could visit the necessary and then get the dogs’ breakfast.

Given that no one but me was at the hearth, or even under the canvas, no one was there to speak a word about yesterday’s ceremony, for which I was grateful. I had put last winter’s despair behind me, and I didn’t want to think about it anymore. Instead, I thought about something that the stir to observe Kazunki’s funeral rites had swept aside, something important, something I needed to do something about.

In the midst of the stir that had brought about Kazunki’s death, someone had shot at my brother.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Brothers Durin wake to an unexpected conflict, and the repercussions thereof.

The only time I stirred during the night was when Kíli finally came into the tent. It lacked but three hours until dawn; I hoped nothing untoward had happened to keep my brother out on the grass so long. He collapsed face down on his cot without bothering to undress, so tired was he, and he fell asleep seconds thereafter. A few faint stirs under the cots revealed that Alabrin and Mhornar had crawled beside Rinnala for their well-deserved rest. I hadn’t been abed long, so I fell back to sleep as soon as Kíli’s breath deepened.

I woke perhaps two hours after dawn. The only other person in the tent was Kíli, and he was still solidly asleep. We hadn’t been in the summer camp long enough for me to have Kahgli’s rhythm yet, but I imagined that, until the worst of the summer heat came, most of the clan got up with the sun to make the most of the daylight. The exceptions would be those who’d worked long into the night, as Kíli and I had.

In deference to my sleeping brother, I crept off my cot quietly and went outside. Rinnala came with me, though her two mates remained ensconced under Kíli’s cot. I was gratified to see that my pretty maid didn’t need my help to clamber to her paws this morn, even if she did so without her usual elegance. When we got outside, I made much of her on the way to the necessary, then we walked to Vikken’s realm for her breakfast. One of Vikken’s lads gave me a sleepy wave as he fed the fire under the wash kettle, and a couple of other hunters fed their dogs after their night’s duties, so it was a quiet gathering. I got Rinnala’s bowl, sliced her rations, and fed her without demur, then washed her bowl and hung it up on the line to air dry. Back we went to the tent for my breakfast; I was well hungry after yesterday’s long day.

Cyth might not be at her usual spot at the hearth, but she’d left a big pot of porridge, several rounds of flatbread and the crock of _ceigeach_ _ìm,_ leftovers from last night’s supper, and a full teakettle for whoever was hungry. I wasted no time in filling my bowl and shoveling it down. I wished that Kíli had been awake to talk to, but he’d been so late on the grass yesterday that I wouldn’t wake him. Maybe we’d get to work on our skins later today, and we’d talk then. I had so many things to tell him, and I wanted to assure myself that yesterday’s scare when Ankulaz had sawed off his braids hadn’t brought on a resurgence of his self-doubt.

I also wanted to see if he’d remembered anything about the antelope hunt that would reveal who had shot at me. It wasn’t Kazunki, I was sure of that. Had he loosed the arrow that had wounded Rinnala? Likely. But how could he have pulled a second arrow out of his quiver, nocked it, and let it fly at me while trying to sit a wounded, wildly bucking pony?

So who had shot the second arrow?

Who had stabbed Faaldi?

Was the knife left in my pack the same one that had stabbed Faaldi, or did another sinister gaming knife still lurk in someone’s things?

Why put the knife in my things, rather than anyone else’s? Who wanted to get me expelled from the clan?

I had no answers, and no proof to make my suspicions anything more than vapor.

I finished my breakfast. Since no one was at the hearth to tell me what to do this morn, I took Rinnala out to see what I could glean for myself. No matter the stir about Kazunki, I wasn’t about to skulk about and look guilty. I was here on the grass to work, so work I would. Maybe Barkhuzi could use another hand with the ponies or the rigging, or maybe Klyn would look at Rinnala’s stitches to make sure she was healing well. Even if Kahgli had nothing for me, I’d stay busy; I had my skins to work on while Rinnala rested after her meal.

I set out for the briar enclosure that held the ponies, but I slowed when I spotted a gathering near the edge of the river. I must’ve been very sleepy when I’d come out to feed Rinnala, because I hadn’t noticed it then. Now, it was hard not to notice it, because angry voices sawed back and forth.

“What’s going on?” Kíli asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes as he came up behind me with Alabrin and Mhornar beside him. “It sounds like someone’s having a row.”

“It does,” I admitted. “Come on, we’d best find out.”

“Aye,” Kíli agreed, with an apologetic look at Mhornar and Alabrin. “I’m sorry, my beauties, can you wait just a few moments more for your breakfast?”

Neither of Kíli’s companions was happy when we set out for the river, but both followed us. We weren’t the only curious ones; other folk drawn by the noise of disagreement were filtering out of tents and away from tasks to make their way to the river.

The disturbance was a fight between Ankulaz and Grun. If I looked surprised, my brother had a gleeful smirk plastered across his face.

“Caution, brother,” I warned lowly. “After everything that’s happened in the last two days, we can’t trust anything to be as it seems.”

Kíli’s expression sobered immediately. “You’re right, Fíl. Thank you for reminding me. Caution, it is.”

He fell in on my left, that quarter step behind, mute assurance that he was ready to second me however he needed to. We approached the river on our guard, ready for anything.

Oh and oh, Ankulaz’s voice was rough and slurred, his balance was shot, and his eyes were heavily bloodshot. His wild, roundhouse punches at his second missed more than they hit, but as powerful as they were, even the most glancing blows sent Grun staggering.

“Is he... drunk?” Kíli queried in a low, tentative voice.

“To the skies,” I confirmed. “He started as soon as we got back to camp yesterday. I don’t think he ever came in from the grass last night, either.”

“ _Dahaut_ ,” Kíli shook his head, and not in admiration. If anything, my brother looked appalled. “I can’t bear to even smell arkhi, but he’s guzzled it like water since last night.”

I hummed agreement as we drew even with the others who ringed the fighters. Typically, when a fight broke out in a pub, Dwarves were well inclined to meet the display with enthusiasm, as well as a lot of betting on the outcome. But this fight met with subdued murmurs, because gathered to the side were Kahgli’s ranking members, all regarding the fighters with varying degrees of exasperation. No one wanted to brave those stern looks to encourage or ridicule the fighters, much less place wagers. Merruli was not among the spectators, but his brothers were, as were Yanna, Derfrulia, and Cyth. Yanna seemed the most disgusted; Cyth, however, seemed to consider the scene as if it were a chess match, albeit an ugly one. Derfrulia’s expression was the plainest – she was angry.

“Ankulaz, see reason!” Grun pleaded as he ducked the heir’s spastic rush of blows. “We’ve got duty to stand, or Derfrulia will have grounds to send us home!”

“No fucking dam tells me to stand duty while I mourn my cousin!” a staggering Ankulaz growled in a savage voice. “Give me the arkhi!”

“Stop this brawling! Stop it now!” Derfrulia spat, hands on hips.

Ankulaz shot her a venomous look before he lunged for the half-empty skin of arkhi that lay by the water. Grun reached it first, snatching it out of the Urghul heir’s hands and throwing it far into the water.

“You’ve had enough!” Grun shouted. “You’ve had more than enough to lose what little dignity you had, and in front of so many who have reason to think ill of you already! Is that how you mourn the one who supported you without question for so long?”

With a howl, Ankulaz launched himself at his second, who flung himself backwards to stay out of Ankulaz’s reach.

“You fucking traitor – you damned fucking traitor!” Ankulaz snarled, arms widespread and hands clutching air as he tried to grab the other Dwarf. “You’re no better than that dam of yours, always spinning her web of lies about my sire, and baiting Kazunki for no reason other than spite –”

“Enough!” Derfrulia shouted. “Both of you call halt!”

Grun was white-faced at Ankulaz’s invectitude, but he mastered himself with effort, and offered Ankulaz his hand. The Urghul heir, however, was no more capable of obeying Derfrulia’s words than he was of flying, and he rounded on his second as soon as Grun’s guard was down. Ankulaz was drunk enough that his reflexes were slow, and every Dwarf watching knew he would slap Grun’s hand aside and rain more blows down upon him. It would come to naught; all Grun had to do was sidestep neatly, and the heir would stumble past him and land on his face –

But Grun didn’t get out of the way.

Ankulaz’s massive fist punched Grun in the eye and flattened him to the ground. The second lay too stunned to groan, curse, or rise.

“That’s it,” Derfrulia snapped, and nodded at some of Kahgli’s burliest herders and hunters. “Into the lake, and be damned swift about it.”

I started forward to help, but Kíli grabbed my arm to hold me back. “Stay out of it, Fíl. Keep Durin out of it.”

He was right, of course, and so I stood by as six Dwarves hauled Ankulaz up between them. Despite his struggles and rasping curses, they waded a few feet into the river, and then pitched him into deeper water. He landed with such an awkward splash that I had to work to smother my laugh. I expected Kíli would laugh, and was ready to elbow him quiet. But my brother hadn’t looked at Ankulaz – he’d kept his gaze fixed on Grun. The second wasn’t so incapacitated now – quite at his ease, he’d raised himself on one elbow to watch the Urghul heir get thrown into the water. He'd looked quite pleased with himself, despite his blackening eye.

I might be pleased to see the enraged Dwarf who’d insulted my dam and blackened my eye get a dunking at the hands of folk who had no love for him. But if I hated that Dwarf as an enemy, I’d be even more pleased to bait him into that rage, that insult. If I were clever and had no scruples, I’d guide my enemy’s rage, too, so that he insulted the clan at odds with mine. They’d retaliate to worsen my enemy’s humiliation, and I’d come out of the whole affair looking as innocent as a newborn kid.

A black eye was a small price to pay to achieve all that.

Kíli flicked me a grim look; he’d read the scene just as I had. How glad I was that he’d had the presence of mind to keep me from dragging Durin into Grun’s malevolent plan! When Grun scanned the gathering to see if anyone had noticed his amusement, both Kíli and I averted our eyes, as if we’d regarded Ankulaz the entire time. But out of the corner of my eye, Grun looked smug when Ankulaz floundered so badly that Derfrulia had to direct a couple of herders to haul the heir out before he drowned. Once the pair of herders beached Ankulaz on the grass, the fight seemed to go out of him, and he lay still like some stunted dead log.

Grun feigned a wince as he clambered awkwardly to his feet. When he approached Derfrulia, his expression was longsuffering embarrassment.

“I accept that Ankulaz has violated the terms of his fostering because he cannot serve his duties, and that you have the right to end his time with Kahgli. If you would loan me two ponies, I’ll take Ankulaz back to his father, and Urghul will trouble you no more.”

Kíli’s surprised whisper was Black Speech at its most obscene, but only I heard it. I wasn’t any less surprised than my brother. Had getting Ankulaz thrown out of Kahgli been Grun’s goal all along? Whether yes or no, wouldn’t Derfrulia jump at the chance to rid herself of her two unpleasant fosterlings?

“Take Ankulaz back to his tent. From now until his fostering is done, no one is to offer him a drop of arkhi, not even the visitor’s welcome sip.” She raised her eyes to scan all of us sternly. “Is that understood? No one.”

“Yes, Derfrulia,” everyone murmured.

“Good.” The horse maid’s hard glance returned to Grun, who looked confused. “Now. We will see that Ankulaz is undisturbed while he sleeps off his ale head. When he wakes, he will see Maaggulmuli to ensure that he has not inflicted any ills on himself that might prevent him from standing his regular duty. In the meantime, Grun, you will see to your assigned duties.”

“But...” Grun stammered.

“But what?” Derfrulia countered. “I’m not one to punish a Dwarf who has acted rashly while he mourns the death of one so close to him, at least not the first time. We will take steps to make sure that Ankulaz does not mourn so rashly again. Is this a surprise to you? Perhaps Urghul handles the indiscretions of their mourners differently?”

“But I thought...” Grun bit off his words, shook himself straight, and his perpetual half smile appeared with its usual aplomb, and he shrugged as artlessly as if he shared a confidence with a friend. “It’s no secret that Kahgli doesn’t want Urghul’s fosterlings, Lady. You could be rid of us without stain on your honor because of Ankulaz’s weakness.”

Derfrulia put her hands on her hips to give Grun a hard stare. “You’ve made no secret of your displeasure to be one of Urghul’s fosterlings, too. Another time, I’d be happy to be rid of you and your ill-mannered heir. But murder has been done, and no one leaves Kahgli until the one who struck Kazunki down has been found and dealt with. Maybe Urghul doesn’t value its honor, or its obligations to the dead, but Kahgli does. So we’re stuck with each other until that time comes. I suggest you make the best of it.”

Grun didn’t erupt in a rage, or even swear under his breath. But as Derfrulia turned back to Ankulaz, his eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned. The expression was malevolent enough that Kíli’s hand fell on my shoulder, urging caution. I appreciated the gesture; surely Grun had been the one to sneak that gaming knife in my pack, and neither Kíli nor I wanted to do anything to draw Grun’s eye to us.

“Kahgli respects Ankulaz’s grief,” Derfrulia declared without a hint of irony as four herders hauled up Ankulaz’s limp body and headed back to his tent with him. “The best way to show our respect is to find out who had a hand in Kazunki’s death as quickly as possible. The first step we will take is to search the belongings of each member of the hunting party.”

“Why?” one of the older hunters asked suspiciously. “What do you look for?”

Derfrulia’s expression was calm and inscrutable. “That will remain my secret for now. All who were part of the hunting party, please stand to my right. The rest of you, please return to your duties, but stay out of the tents until we’ve completed our search.”

Kíli and I didn’t dare look at each other. Kíli covered his confusion by stooping beside Alabrin and Mhornar, who whined loudly.

“They haven’t eaten,” my brother explained, giving me an anxious look. “We’d just nipped out to the necessary and were on our way to get their food when this stirred up.”

“Nothing to be done for it now,” I grimaced. “Give it a bit longer, and then maybe we can ask for someone to feed them for you until Derfrulia’s through with us.”

Kíli didn’t like that, but he nodded a concession and said no more. He was a bit pale, which told me he hadn’t eaten, either –

As Barkhuzi and Klyn stepped forward to join the group of hunters, I realized that my brother wasn’t the only pale Dwarf this morn. Klyn was as ashen as snow, but it wasn’t because he was hungry.

He was terrified.

Oh, Valar – had someone left something in Klyn’s pack, too?

I sidled closer to my brother and hissed, “Kíl.”

Kili stayed beside his dogs, but tilted his head towards me. “What?” he hissed back.

“Klyn.”

My brother slid his gaze to our friend, and blanched a bit paler. Rightly so – our friend looked as if he’d just been sentenced to death. “ _Skator_ , what’s wrong with him?”

“What if someone left something in his pack, too?”

“ _Skator-u_ ,” Kili chewed his lip. “What can we do?”

“Come on.”

I edged closer to Klyn with Kíli close behind. I wasn’t prepared for the reception we got – when our friend saw us coming, his eyes went wide, and he tried to hide behind Barkhuzi. Before Barkhuzi sorted out that something was wrong, Kíli and I had flanked him to stand on either side of Klyn. The small Dwarf tried to bolt, but Kíli grabbed one arm, and I grabbed the other.

Barkhuzi frowned at Klyn, then Kíli and me. “What’s – ow!”

Kíli had kicked Barkhuzi hard, hissing for him to be quiet. I put my mouth to Klyn’s ear.

“Is something wrong with your pack?” I whispered.

Klyn flinched as if I’d stabbed him with the knife that had appeared in my things.

“His pack?” Barkhuzi repeated, mystified and in his normal voice, which was much too loud. As folk turned towards us, Kíli kicked him again.

“ _Skator_ , Khuzi!” Kíli breathed, giving him an exasperated poke with his elbow for good measure. “Just shut up!”

Barkhuzi thankfully went silent, but he bent close to hear what I said to Klyn.

“Don’t say anything,” I whispered. “Is anything wrong with your pack... or what’s inside it?”

Klyn trembled like Maamr’s custard pudding, and sweat burst out on his brow. “N-not mine. Y-yours.”

“There’s nothing wrong with mine.”

Klyn flicked a terrified glance at me.

“There. Is. Nothing. Wrong. With. Mine,” I repeated, squeezing his arm. “Kíli’s, either.”

“What in all the hells is going on?” Barkhuzi hissed.

Kíli favored Barkhuzi with a glare. “Nothing, all right? Just... nothing. Everything’s fine. Fine.”

“Right. Everything’s fine,” I repeated, as Cyth gave me a sharp look. I met her look with my best innocuous smile. Barkhuzi was a fast learner, because he had a smile on his face, too, but Kíli still looked guarded. Cyth put her arms akimbo and sauntered up to us with a suspicious frown.

“What’s the lot of you up to?”

“Mhornar and Alabrin,” Kíli blurted, with honest concern on his face. “I was just about to feed them when the stir started, so they haven’t eaten this morn. Please, if I can’t feed them now, can someone else do it? They’re very hungry.”

Cyth pursed her lips, but Kíli had spoken nothing but the truth, and I was smart enough to hold silence, even when Cyth narrowed her eyes on me. If Klyn and Barkhuzi could just keep their mouths shut under such a wilting glare...

Cyth looked away from us and called to her daughter. When Derfrulia answered, Cyth said, “Kíli needs to feed his dogs. I’ll watch over him, and bring him afterwards so you can search his things.”

At Derfrulia’s assent, the old dam raked us with her sharp eyes again. “The rest of you stay here until Derfrulia sorts you out. Kíli, you’re with me.”

“Yes, Cyth,” my brother agreed as he caressed the heads of his dogs. He gave them both a relieved smile. “Come on, my beauties. Breakfast at last!”

He hastened off after Cyth, with Mhornar and Alabrin capering after them. That left me with Klyn and Barkhuzi, but I didn’t dare speak, not with so many of Kahgli’s senior folk hovering near. The hunting party, minus Ankulaz, had to go around to each tent, then the hunting party members had to lug out all of their things and spread it out in front of everyone. The sight of so much ragged underwear scattered to and fro might’ve been hilarious at any other time, but I found it humiliating. I couldn’t have felt any more chastened if Masters Balin and Dwalin, or worse yet, Maamr, picked through my things. Even the most senior hunters, including Jiri, stood by without a word.

Ankulaz’s things received the same treatment, even though he was flat on his cot, either unconscious or asleep. Assistant medic Khel was with him to make sure he didn’t choke while he slept, and Grun was allowed to spread out his heir’s things rather than someone from Kahgli. All this took forever, and the hunting party had eased enough to grumble during the last few searches. But Kíli and I weren’t among them. We better than the rest knew why the search was underway, though both of us were taken aback at how thorough it was. If Maamr had ever searched my things as ruthlessly as Ferrin and Vikken did, I would have never gotten away with anything.

Over an hour after we’d begun, the clan elders gathered us in the center of the camp and left us by the mast under the watchful eyes of senior herders and hunters, while they retreated to the river to deliberate.

Klyn looked in better spirits, but his hunched posture begged me to ask what he’d known about my pack; we remained under close watch, though, so I kept silence. Grun was near, too, silent and glowering, and I wasn’t about to say anything he might overhear. Kíli looked better; he’d been allowed to eat breakfast while his things were searched.

As far as I could tell, nothing untoward appeared in anyone’s things. Had the search been a sham, then?

No, it’d been deadly serious. Derfrulia wanted to make perfectly clear to everyone that she hadn’t singled out Urghul for her search; she’d included Kahgli and Durin, too.

It was another step in a chess game.

The elders concluded their conversation, and approached us. The faint murmur of conversation fell still as Derfrulia and the other elders lined up before us.

“I thank you for your patience,” Derfrulia said without preamble, bowing over her hands. “You are all released to your duties.”

I blinked, and Kíli looked no less bemused. We weren’t the only ones dissatisfied with that bare dismissal, either.

“Did ye find whatever it was you looked for?” asked one hunter.

“What in hell was it?” clamored another.

“You left a right mess, too, maid,” a third snorted.

Derfrulia’s expression was closed as she looked at each of us in turn. Her eyes didn’t rest on anyone for any length of time, nor did she linger on anyone longer than the others. Yet the weight of her consideration was heavy in the brief time that she regarded me. I met her gaze squarely, and so did Kíli, because we had nothing to hide.

Klyn held her gaze, too, but as if he expected a beating. Barkhuzi hovered by his side, finally aware that something was afoot, and mystified about what it was or what to do about finding out. Before he could ask his mate, Derfrulia spoke again.

“We will not abandon our quest to discover who felled Kazunki. But it is time we were back among the herds. We have foals and kids to tend, as well as their dams and sires.”

Derfrulia and her sons retreated to the family tent, and Vikken went back to his dogs. As the hunters drifted away muttering about the repacking they had to do, Kíli and I turned as one, of like mind to join Klyn and Barkhuzi – only to have Cyth block our path. The dam wore a hard, forbidding frown on her face.

“I hold both of you to your promises,” she growled. “Not one word to anyone about what you gave me. To anyone.”

Cyth might be several inches shorter than me, and she might be as slender as Kíli, but she had enough gravity and presence to abash us both. My brother and I exchanged meek glances.

“Yes, Cyth,” I promised.

“Did you find another one?” Kíli couldn’t keep himself from asking. “Or anything?”

“You saw the search as I did,” Cyth countered. “Did you see something I didn’t?”

“N-no,” Kíli allowed.

“Good.” The dam’s smile was worthy of Master Dwalin when he saw a fight coming. “That means no one else did, either.”

She gave Mhornar a brief caress as she passed us on her way back to the family tent. As I watched her go, Kíli exhaled ruefully.

“I feel guilty,” he murmured, stroking Alabrin’s head.

I eyed him in surprise. “For what? Have you pulled a prank I don’t know about?”

“Not a one.”

“Then why do you feel guilty?”

Kíli’s snicker was admiring. “Do you remember how Maamr looks at us when she knows we’re up to something? Not when she _thinks_ we are, but when she _knows_ we are?”

I grinned. “All too well. Fucking unnerving, she is.”

“Oh and oh, that’s no lie,” Kíli giggled. “But Cyth’s even more unnerving, isn’t she? If she can look at me and make me feel like I’ve done something when I haven’t, imagine how I’ll feel when she looks at me and I have?”

I snorted in laughter. “Oh, Valar, brother. You’ll melt where you stand.”

“Probably.”

“Come on, we’d better pack our things back into some sort of order.”

Kíli hummed agreement, only to interrupt himself to put a hand on my shoulder. “Look there, Fíl. Does she try to make Grun feel guilty about something, too?”

Cyth had detoured to intercept the Urghul Dwarf as she had us. The exchange was brief, but Cyth’s feral smile was much in evidence. When she resumed her way to the family tent, Grun scowled after her with such intensity that I gulped, and Kíli’s fingers tightened on my shoulder.

“He didn’t melt,” Kíli observed, as Grun stumped back towards his tent.

“That doesn’t mean he’s not up to something,” I observed.

“No, it doesn’t,” my brother said softly, as his fingers tightened on my shoulder again. “Because he is, and you know it, too.”

I did.

 

* * *

 

_The snake’s spawn moved fast for one so old. She was before him, blocking his way to his tent and his drunken heir before he could avoid her._

_“Our eyes are on you,” the hag murmured. Her dark eyes held his with as much power as steel through flesh, delving so deep so fast that he couldn’t completely hide his malice. She smiled in recognition of what he revealed. “Step softly.”_

_“Do you accuse me of something?” he snarled._

_“Should I?”_

_“If you try to lay the blame for something at my feet, do so, and show me the proof of it.”_

_“I offer advice born of a long life. It is about the care for wounds, old ones. The longer it takes to cleanse an old wound, the deeper it grows, and the more it hurts to heal it. It can flare at any point, especially when poked, and it can hurt all within its path, whether justified or not. Be careful that it doesn’t take you with it.”_

_The snake’s spawn smiled her serpent’s smile and left him to seethe by the tent._


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Kahgli tends to its herds, Fíli reflects on outward appearances, while Kíli ponders what simmers beneath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because this is a culture that lives and dies by animal management, this chapter includes some of the facts of life about managing male goats and ponies. It's nothing graphic, but it does come up. You will also find a brief nod to a certain dish that Alfrid served up to the Master of Laketown one evening.
> 
> Translation Notes:
> 
> dahaut Uruk kurvanog = fucking Orc shit (Black Speech)  
> Dohi = villiage idiot (Dwarvish)

Oh and oh, how had coming out on the grass to guard against the predations of wolves turned into such a complicated stew of mystery and murder? I felt as if I’d been thrown into one of Master Balin’s knottiest political tales without knowing half of the whys and wherefores!

Fíli might tease me about sleeping through Master Balin’s lectures back in Thorin’s Halls, but that wasn’t exactly true. Yes, I’d often had trouble making sense of Elvish poetry and Dwarvish trade agreements, and if I’d fallen asleep during those, it was because I’d paid scrupulous heed to Master Dwalin’s lessons beforehand. But no matter how tired I was, I’d heeded every story about who had a grudge against whom. I good reason to stay away from folk who took exception to my looks; I didn’t need to run afoul of longstanding feuds on top of that. So even when such a story hadn’t been the most interesting, concern about my welfare had kept me awake.

This time, though, there was no tale to heed, and no patient Master Balin to explain all the subtleties. I had to figure this tale out on my own.

I wasn’t completely without help, though. Cyth had told me to hold silence about the vicious knife in Fíli’s pack, and the retreating Grun would sooner die than enlighten me about the state of the weather. But I had Fíli to help me. Even better, Klyn was at hand, he was my friend, and he’d known something was wrong about my brother’s pack. So I’d see what he had to say.

Fíli was with me as I headed for our friend. The small Dwarf still stood beside Barkhuzi, who murmured in his mate’s ear. Klyn had his arms wrapped around his ribs, almost as if the air had sent a chill up his spine, and he stared at his boots.

“... how did you know that our packs would be searched?” Barkhuzi was asking as Fíli and I drew within earshot.

“I didn’t know, Khuzi. I didn’t...”

Klyn’s voice died when he looked up and found Fíli and me before him. His eyes widened. His mouth shut with an audible snap of teeth, and his lips thinned into a tight, frightened line with downturned ends. He shook his head rapidly from side to side.

“ _I didn’t know_ ,” he pleaded.

“You thought something was wrong with my pack,” Fíli said softly, persuasively, taking pains not to accuse, but to reassure our friend that he wasn’t mad. “Maybe you saw someone near it this morn, and thought nothing of it until Derfrulia ordered the search?”

Poor Klyn flinched as if the slender blade of that gaming knife had slipped between his ribs. “I didn’t see anyone do anything. And you said there wasn’t anything wrong with it.”

“You thought something was wrong, though,” Barkhuzi murmured. “Please, _ban-chéile_ , tell us what so we know what to guard against.”

Spouse, partner, husband, love, Barkhuzi called his mate, trying to reassure Klyn. But Klyn swallowed convulsively and his eyes flitted as if he was afraid someone had overheard Barkhuzi.

“You can’t call me that! We’re not of age, Khuzi, and Derfrulia won’t like to hear that her grandson’s handfasted to an unconnected orphan,” Klyn protested. His voice was high and strained, even if it was a whisper.

“Valar, Klyn, you know my grandmother doesn’t care whether we’re of age or not, and being an orphan’s no crime, either.” Barkhuzi’s usually smiling face was so distressed that I winced. “What’s got you in such a panic?”

“Is it Grun?” I asked. “Did he threaten you when you saw him do something he shouldn’t have? If he has, the four of us can straighten that out right now.”

“Mahal, Kíli, no!” Klyn squeaked. “N-no, no – please, don’t do anything! He had nothing to do with it – with anything! Please, don’t do anything!”

Our friend was in such a panic that Barkhuzi turned to Fíli and me. “If Klyn won’t say anything, then you tell me what happened, or at least what you think happened.”

Fíli sent me a quelling look. “We can’t say anything, either, and the person who swore us to silence wasn’t Grun. It was your great-grandmother.”

“ _Dahaut_ ,” Barkhuzi ground his teeth. “There’s no getting around her, and I don’t suggest you try, or you’ll rue the day. Can you at least say whether it has anything to do with the Urghuls?”

“I don’t _know_ if it does or not,” Fíli allowed, but his subtle emphasis revealed our suspicions. That only deepened Barkhuzi’s frustrated, dissatisfied grunt.

“It wasn’t all bad, that search,” I said nonchalantly. When everyone, even Klyn, looked at me as if I’d lost what little sense I’d been born with, I tapped my nose. “Everyone in the hunting party, as well as a certain dam, saw that every blade in Fíli’s pack belongs to him, without a doubt.”

Fíli gave me a glare, but I stared back without repentance. I knew to a fine point the difference between the letter and the spirit of a prohibition. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to talk about the gaming knife we found in Fíli’s pack, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t talk about all the other knives in it. Both of our friends were swift to understand what I hadn’t said, but Klyn’s response was to hunch even lower – Valar, he was more cowed than before. Barkhuzi’s mouth traced the same thin, tight line that Klyn’s did, but not because he was scared. He was so angry that his hair seemed to fluff up like an angry dog’s, and he gave his long mustaches some hard tugs.

“Keep it to yourself, Khuzi,” Fíli cautioned, before the red-haired Dwarf said anything. “As you said, Cyth’s not the one to cross. I don’t intend to, and I don’t want either of you to, either. The best thing for us to do right now is to repack our stuff, and get back to whatever we’re supposed to do now.”

“Aye, that’s good advice,” Barkhuzi nodded, but the worried look he gave Klyn was mute evidence that the matter was still open. When we separated to tend to our repacking, I gave Fíli one of our private looks to urge him on towards the tent.

“Don’t say a word, Kíl,” he began.

“About a certain blade, I won’t. Trust me for the rest.”

Fíli’s mouth quirked up into a rueful smile, but he nodded and went on towards our tent. I hung back a second or two, then jogged after Klyn and Barkhuzi.

“Klyn, I forgot – I don’t want to bother Vikken about Mhornar, so maybe you can tell me...”

“Tell you what?” Klyn’s face cleared, glad to be away from whatever plagued him, then it fell into worry again. “Oh, no... is something wrong with your bonny maid?”

I flicked a glance at Barkhuzi, then slid my eyes sideways. My friend got the implied message at once, and kept going on towards his tent. When he was out of earshot, I leaned towards Klyn.

“She’s fine. I’ve something else to say.”

That startled, frozen look was back in Klyn’s eyes, and his posture stiffened. “Kíli –”

“I’m here on the grass because I was bullied in Thorin’s Halls, Klyn. Hounded.”

Klyn’s jaw dropped. “You? You were –”

“Just listen,” I pleaded. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get the words out if he interrupted me again, so I plowed forward. “They started off with words, trying to isolate me, humiliate me, make me feel worthless. When that didn’t work, they beat me, each time worse than the last, until I... tried to... die. If someone’s started that with you, don’t hold silence, don’t bear it alone. Those play right into a bully’s hands.”

“You tried to die? But you’re magical with your bow, and you’re going to ride Lathga in the festival, and you’re a hard worker...”

“I’m worth something here, not back there,” I winced. “Still... I’m ashamed I was so weak, so... don’t tell anyone, not even Khuzi.”

“Why did you tell me?”

I swallowed. “So you know that you don’t have to endure what I did. Fíli saved my life, Klyn. Your friends stand with you, too, no matter what, no matter whether you ask them to or not.”

Klyn’s posture remained almost as tight, and his unconscious gulp was painful, but he nodded. “I’m... it’s... nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Don’t say otherwise to anyone, Kíli. I’ll keep silence for you, but you have to keep it for me, too.”

He held out his palm to me. Oh and oh, he wanted my promise then, but in return he’d keep my weakness private. I tapped my palm on his, and we were agreed.

Klyn’s retreating back looked more disconsolate than reassured. Maybe as time passed, he’d think on my words, and confide in Barkhuzi, if not Fíli or me.

I hoped it wouldn’t take a bully’s cruelty to bring him to that point.

 

* * *

 

_“Ban-chéile, tell me what you saw. No one will hear you but me. Please, ban-chéile.”_

_For the first time, the caressing voice that only he heard didn’t calm his fears. No matter that they were in their blankets, and no one else was in the tent. It wouldn’t have mattered if they’d been the only two Dwarves on the grass for a hundred miles. No words existed that could explain, excuse, defend, or protect. How could they? What he knew was evil, and what he was was worse. No words defended against either._

_It was better to remain silent than to lie._

_What would he do when lying was all that remained to him?_

_Kíli had been lucky. All he’d stood to lose was his life._

 

* * *

 

_Grun repacked his scattered belongings, then left the tent. There was no point to remaining beside the insensate Urghul heir. Ankulaz might be well beyond consciousness, but too many hunters rattled about the tent, and Khel, the junior Kahgli medic, tended him closely. There would be no opportunity for Ankulaz to choke on his own vomit or suffocate in the middle of his things tonight. The prohibition against Ankulaz’s drinking precluded all further opportunities for that, too._

_What a lost opportunity, and not the only one._

_Grun had made it so easy for Derfrulia to banish Ankulaz. He would’ve laid money on the bitch jumping at the least excuse to rid Kahgli of them both, and he’d given her an irresistibly solid one. If only she had – how perfect it would be to leave Kahgli lands with the disgraced heir in tow! Only one of them would have returned to Urghul, and that would’ve forced Tobazel’s hand past him getting out of it._

_Fuck Derfrulia and her misplaced honor to see Kazunki’s death unraveled. Urghul was filth, and didn’t deserve Kahgli’s high-minded consideration._

_Still, all was not lost. Sometime tomorrow, Ankulaz would recover from his ale head, unable to remember most of what had happened today, just as he had so often in the past. Once again, he’d hand Grun the perfect opportunity to spin a new tale of the events, one that would keep the heir and all of Kahgli at odds._

_Many more opportunities for storytelling lay ahead. The summer was long, and the work exhausting. Just a word here or there, especially to the vulnerable, the simple, and the incautious, could sway an opinion. Other tactics could persuade those of stronger mind to hold silence, or even stop them entirely. It all depended on how clever his enemies were to hide their weaknesses._

_The young were rarely so adept, even if they belonged to the king’s clan._

 

* * *

 

As suddenly as Kazunki had died, the stir about his demise seemed to die almost as fast. No one forgot the tragedy, or the unsettled nature of how it had come about, but it was spring, the steppe’s busiest season. Kahgli went back to the business of herding ponies, goats, and horses, and so did Kíli and I.

For whatever reason, all of Kahgli’s stock saw fit to drop their young early, and the scramble to care for them all meant that the spring festival we’d so looked forward to had to be abandoned. Derfrulia divided the clan into four groups, with the largest number remaining at the main camp; the other three groups of about fifteen Dwarves apiece moved to the north and west to cover the farthest part of the clan’s range. How telling was it that every hunter who’d been in the party where Kazunki had died remained at the main camp? That was no accident, and said louder than words that despite the clan’s obligation to its herds, Derfrulia intended to honor her promise to solve the mystery of Kazunki’s death.

There was so much to do, and so much to learn! Kíli and I might’ve contracted as wolf hunters for the clan, but steppe life was too precarious to allow for specialists. For the sake of survival, we were to learn all aspects of life on the grass, not just hunting. Each day saw us doing something different than the day before. At morn, we joined other hunters to sweep the flat for pregnant mares and goats, and guided them to the herders for escort back to the camp. At eve, we rode among the herd to guard, reassure, and deter. We kept our bows to the ready, even in daylight, because the wolves grew bolder now that they had hungry young to feed. Before long, many of us had reason to spend our few free hours preparing pelts for the coming winter. Both Kíli and I were soon knee deep in fur, but Kíli especially. He had a raft of wolf pelts, and so many rabbit pelts that he gave many of them away to whoever could use them. Many a bairn would be snug in one of his rabbit fur blankets come winter.

As the weather warmed, the biggest task was to geld the male kids. I was surprised to learn that goats were old enough to breed in just eight weeks, and the budding bucks were happy to vent their ardor on any doe, even siblings and mothers, without complaint. To protect the herd from inbreeding, as well unrestrained breeding, we left the kids with their dams for only four weeks before we gelded the males. Now I understood why the clan’s four bucks were kept together and away from the does – during their rut, they were intent on nothing but breeding. They reeked worse than the filthiest Dwarf, and grew quite aggressive. One was so fierce that he even chased after Kíli, who was a friend to all animals. It was not safe to let the bairns anywhere near the wrathful Dohi.

We had as much to do for the ponies, and it, too, centered on breeding and the young. Mares came into season only a few days after they dropped their foals, so the studs would soon be busy. As if watching for mares about to drop their foals weren’t enough work, we also had to gather all the year-old colts so that Merruli, Yanna, and Derfrulia could choose the few worthy to breed next year’s young. Such high ritual went into that! Disposition, conformation, strength, and health all factored into the mix, as well as intangibles I couldn’t fathom. Yanna, of course, was intensely focused on the chance to breed more spotted foals. She’d proved that Shar’s sire Targi had passed on spots to foals out of two different mares, so his status was safe. One of his foals got the same pass, in hopes that he, too, would soon sire a spotted pony. But few of the remaining colts were so lucky – only three were deemed suitable to join the clan’s five active studs. Given how many foals had been born last year, we spent several long days gelding colts, but it was as humane for the young animals as we could make it. As we had for the kids, we fed the colts special herbs to dull the pain and to calm them, and both Maaggulmuli and Khel did the needed surgery swiftly. Both Kíli and I learned how to put in the neat stitches to seal the small wounds, which herbs helped to slow bleeding, and how to care for the ponies for a few days afterwards.

I will say nothing about what proliferated in the stewpot during those days, other than to say that some things are best eaten with eyes shut, and a desperate hunger to season what one does not see.

We finally discovered that Kahgli’s horses were no myth, but quite real, and very tall compared to ponies. Lathka was the biggest, strongest, and most spirited of them, but there were at least thirty mares and another two studs, as well as another thirty geldings. Kahgli showed tender care to all its animals, but the pampering showered on the twenty pregnant mares was remarkable, and their seventeen surviving foals were spoiled worse than any bairn back in Thorin’s Halls. All of them were hand raised, so they were gentle, well behaved, and beautifully trained. It was no surprise that they were so sought after at the pony sales, and brought such high prices. Of course, we had to collect the year-old colts, and go through the same winnowing out of unsuitable sires. Some nights, my dreams were of only what I’d done all day, one after another without end. It was a needed skill, and we took pains to ensure that the young animals suffered no more than was necessary, but after one of the more fractious colts graced me with a solid kick to the thigh, it was not a skill I wanted to further.

The one task that Kíli and I did not take an active part in was breeding the horses. With the exception of Yanna’s efforts to breed spotted ponies, pony breeding was more or less left to the ponies themselves. That was not true of the horses. The market for them was not for beasts of burden, but for fine saddle mounts and racing steeds, and the clan carefully controlled which stallions bred which mares. They kept detailed records of their efforts, and given the size, vigor, and value of the tall beasts, only expert hands took part in their coupling. As far as Kíli was concerned, that was fine. He said it reminded him too much of the rituals that might await either of us, but especially me, as Uncle’s heirs. I scoffed at the time, but the more I thought about it, the more it seemed to be truth. I hadn’t thought my brother was old enough to be so cynical, but I credited the bullies in Thorin’s Halls for giving him that perspective.

As the days passed and the land grew warmer, we spent less time gathering pregnant dams and unruly colts, and more time just overseeing the herds. That was an important responsibility, because wolves could appear out of nowhere in an instant, dash in to pull down one of the herd, and be off with it before one could blink. Kíli’s quick eyes and quicker bow led the way to staving off many of their attacks.

There was still time, however, for lads and lasses to play. The horses were being prepared for the fall sales, so they needed daily schooling to accept a saddle and rider, then to learn a rider’s directions. The ones that showed speed and endurance also trained for the fall races. Despite how tall they were, I grew to love racing aback them, and so did Kíli. He was determined to learn the trick of standing up on the back of a galloping horse or pony, and after many an awkward fall, he did so. That just encouraged our mates to throw him on Lathga’s back at a moment’s notice, which was no easy beast to master. Kíli got on with him by not trying to wrestle him into compliance, but by rewarding him with gleeful words, many head scrubs, and even bites of berry chew. Needless to say, before a month was out, the clan talked excitedly of a rematch with the infamous Maagratan from Clan Fentril, who’d ridden his tall horse to victory in last fall's festival.

It was wonderful to see Kíli so happy and healthy again. Every day, I saw anew how well suited Kíli was to this life – he had the instinct for animals that Kahgli valued so much, he came to ride with almost as much ease as anyone in Kahgli, and his already stellar archery skills improved. Once the rush of spring chores had eased, he’d humbly become Kahgli’s bow instructor, offering lessons to all who wanted them; he was patient and kind, for all his youth, and I was chagrined to learn a few things from him myself. I’d offered blade work instruction, too, but as there was very little fighting with swords on the grass, my expertise was mostly about knife work, and wasn’t as useful as Kíli’s was. I enjoyed my efforts, though, and Kíli supported me well.

We were both glad that Grun didn’t favor us with his presence.

Occasionally, I still wrestled with seeing Kíli bask in Clan Kahgli’s regard more than I did – not that I was disparaged at all, but Kíli just seemed to know what to do and how to do it so much faster and better than I did. Still, every time I chafed at being less favored than Kíli, I reminded myself that my brother had happily seconded me without complaint for all of his life, never resenting my position, my looks, or my skills that Thorin’s Halls had wrongly valued more than his. How humbling was it to admit that he’d handled being second for years far better than I had for a few short weeks on the grass? The situations weren’t even comparable – Kahgli appreciated me more than Thorin’s Halls ever did Kíli, and no steppe Dwarf ever spoke about drowning me.

If ever I sat on the throne of Erebor, I’d remember this lesson.

Happily, my moments of envy grew fewer, and I had many, many bright reasons to love my time on the grass as much as my brother did. The biggest reason was the regard of a bonny Kahgli maid – Yanna, of course. She grew more beautiful in my eyes with each passing day, and I thought her eyes grew warmer when she looked at me, too. I diligently reminded myself of the admonitions of both Master Dwalin and Uncle, to remember my status as a lowly contract hunter, as well as my status as Clan Durin’s heir. Both Yanna and I knew that neither of us would have the luxury to choose our spouses. But even so, we had much in common, and we shared a comfortable, even playful companionship, if a chaste one. No matter how much I wanted to dally with her, I didn’t go mooning about plaiting flower crowns for her – not that many flowers grew between the ripples of windswept grass. It was enough to survey the herds over the grass beside her, and laugh with her by the hearth fire at breakfast on occasional morns...

Eh. I told myself it was enough, because it had to be.

 

* * *

 

Clan Kahgli might be glad to go back to their normal work, and Fíli might be ecstatic to lose himself in the smiles of Kahgli’s heir, but I still had serious things to ponder. Yes, I loved racing over the grass, and tending the herd animals – all but the breeding part – and pitting myself against the huge steppe wolves that hungered for a meal of wool goat, steppe pony, or saddle horse. I even had infatuation to sweeten my life, but my beautiful dogs, Mhornar and Alabrin, were the sweetings that got my affection. A raft of the unattached dogs came to follow me about in camp as well, so I had no end of company, and no end of delight, devotion, and acceptance that were balm to an ugly lad. I basked in the regard and friendship of my fellow Dwarves, too, earned because I worked hard at whatever I was set to. Very few tasks on the grass were unpleasant to me, and I loved the expansive land, so wide and unfettered under an endless sky.

But not all was perfect, not all was safe, and it wasn’t wolves or weather that held danger; it was three Dwarves. So I didn’t completely abandon the watchfulness I’d learned at such cost back in Thorin’s Halls.

Grun was the main reason to remain watchful, of course. I was positive he watched and waited to put some plan into action, but I had no hint of what it was. After his fight with Ankulaz, he retreated behind his half smile and apologetic shrug, and went about his tasks without any sign of discontent or ill will. He brought down a steady stream of antelope and rabbits for the supper pots, though he didn’t bring down a single wolf. Did he merely scare them away to make more work for the rest of the hunters? That was an unkind thought, but I didn’t apologize for it.

Ankulaz was the second reason to keep watch. After his drunken rampage, he’d kept to himself, perhaps because he still grieved for Kazunki, perhaps because he dreaded or hated the sight of Kahgli. He did as he was bidden to hunt, stand duty, help with camp chores, but with as few words as possible, and without enthusiasm. He left his shorn hair to fly about him, keeping it out of his face only when he wore a headscarf against wind or rain. He rarely spoke to anyone. None of the dogs, herder or hunter, would approach him. Before long, most of the clan took his withdrawal as snubs, a poor outsider’s attempts to put on airs, and left him to his silence. The only person who talked to him at any length was his second.

Valar, if Grun were the only person who talked to me, what a skewed view of the world I’d have!

Eventually, it dawned on me how important my cynical observation was. I didn’t realize it fully until I thought about the third Dwarf who concerned me.

Klyn.

After the unsatisfying aftermath of Derfrulia’s search, anyone was hard pressed to pry even a single word from behind my friend’s teeth. Just like Ankulaz, he turned as silent as the contents of a burial shroud, and nothing could budge him – neither Barkhuzi’s repeated entreaties, nor Fíli’s attempts at conversation. I didn’t press him, merely offered a friendly presence, but he was no more forthcoming with me. Even Cyth took a turn to try to pry his jaws apart, but Klyn stayed silent throughout, other than to say there was nothing wrong.

That was nothing but _dahaut Uruk kurvanog_.

I took to watching him. He did whatever was asked of him with obsessive thoroughness. He was very careful not to be alone – he stayed close to at least one and preferably more folk at all times, even when he attended the unattached dogs. What’s more, his companions were always some combination of the most senior Dwarves, Khuzi, Fíli, and me. He refused to approach either of the Urghuls, even to stand watch with them. Barkhuzi told me that such a refusal would normally be grounds for expulsion from the clan, but given that Urghul was involved, so far Klyn was merely sent out with someone else. As he knew protocol far better than I did, I’d hoped that that show of Kahgli’s support would embolden him to speak, but to no avail. Nothing loosened his tongue.

So here we were with one silent Dwarf who craved solitude, and another who was terrified of it.

I considered both one afternoon as I sat in the shade of the family tent to work on my fur pelts. I rubbed and burnished and stretched, preparing the fur against rot and damp, grinning at Alabrin sprawled on his back with his paws in the air. Mhornar was more dignified as she laid her head on her paws, but she was no less drowsy than her mate, and she thumped her tail only briefly when I leaned over to caress her flank. How proud was I to have my regal maid’s affection, as well as that of her playful consort? Not just proud – redeemed. A pair of noble wolfhounds had proved beyond anyone’s ability to dispute that I was worth my meat, no matter what I looked like. As long as they were with me, no bully could hurt me, either with words or fists.

That’s when it struck me – why Klyn never strayed out of sight of other folk, especially senior Kahgli folk.

Just as Mhornar and Alabrin kept me safe, so did all of the folk around Klyn. If he were never alone, then no one could threaten or coerce him.

What if someone had already tried to threaten him? What if that someone had succeeded, and had forced Klyn to remain silent about who’d slipped the gaming knife in my brother’s pack? What if Klyn were trying to keep that someone from forcing him to do something else? He acted like the antelopes, always staying with the herd, never straying apart. I knew firsthand that bullies were like wolves – both needed only a few moments to attack the weakest or solitary prey. But unlike wolves, bullies didn't kill their prey outright. They hounded, isolated, and beat them first. If their victims didn't break under such duress and try to put themselves out of their misery, as I'd tried, only then did they finish off their victims.

Oh, Valar...

What if Klyn weren't the only Dwarf so besieged? What if Ankulaz hadn’t isolated himself by choice?

Every time Grun had spoken to either Fíli or me, he’d tried to drive a wedge, cast aspersions, lure us into discontent. What if he’d manipulated Ankulaz’s grief for Kazunki to keep the heir apart from anyone but himself? And what if he’d been the one to slip that gaming knife into my brother’s back, and Klyn had seen him? Or maybe Klyn hadn’t seen Grun muddle with Fíli’s pack – maybe he’d seen Grun stab Faaldi, or shoot at my brother.

Aye, Grun would be well able to threaten Klyn into silence for any of those.

I could only imagine what venomous words he’d slipped into Ankulaz’s ears.

It all made sense... except I had no proof that Grun had stabbed a pony, hidden a knife, shot at my brother, isolated his heir, or threatened my friend. Even if he had done any or all of these things, I had no explanation for why he had.

Mhornar sensed my unease. She poked her nose in my side, met my eyes with her own, and looked solemn. Even Alabrin rolled over to give me a considering stare.

I needed to talk to someone. Fíli was out on the grass, so that left only one person I trusted to steer me straight.

I needed to talk to Cyth.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli's conversation with a Kahgli maid turns warm, but Kíli's with Cyth is far hotter.

Was there any better way to spend a beautiful early summer day than with a spritely maid? The sky was wide and blue, and the streaky clouds were high and expansive. The waist-high grass was so thick that the ponies’ legs disappeared it, which made the beasts seem to skim over the undulating strands like small boats. The goats, antelope, and dogs looked even funnier, reduced to pert heads that floated this way and that over the waving green.

Of course, the downside of such thick grass was that prowling wolves disappeared into it, and one had to keep much closer watch to spot the telltale signs of their progress. But even they had to stick their heads up on occasion, to judge how close they were to a potential meal. Also, when one of them struck, the rest of the pack took longer to close in because they had to rely more on sound than sight. To compensate, we put more Dwarves on the grass, and all of us rode the perimeter of the flat more often.

For the moment, however, there were no wolves to see. The ponies and horses were thick about us, cropping the grass in huge mouthfuls to make the most of the juicy bounty while they could. It wouldn’t be long before the grass would be shorter and drier as the hungry animals took their toll. Ahead of Yanna and me ranged Rinnala with two of the unattached dogs, Taalenag and Tobaztanz. True to their names, Taalenag’s brilliant coat and the bright sun made him look as if he were on fire, and Tobaztanz’s tail flew high, waving wildly, so I always knew where she was, even in the deepest grass. Rinnala had a funny habit of bouncing up on her hind legs to get a better view of things, and I chuckled as she did so again. Yanna cast me an inquiring look.

“My fancy lass is also a funny maid,” I observed.

Yanna’s face softened into a smile. “You love her so much.”

I reddened. “I admit it. She’s the blossom of my days, she is. I’m not quite as bad as Kíli is, though. He’s absolutely besotted with Mhornar and Alabrin. He says Mhornar looks out for him, and Alabrin makes him laugh.”

Yanna’s smile was sweet, but sisterly. “Have you noticed how many of the unattached dogs trail after him whenever he’s in camp? They haven’t had such a devoted friend in many a year.”

“Kíli’s good with most animals,” I said generously, though I didn’t want to discuss my brother’s assets with such a bonny maid. “He loves them all, and they recognize that.”

“They do,” Yanna agreed, looking wistful.

“You look a bit sad,” I ventured. “I can’t help but notice that none of the dogs hold to you. That seems so odd. You seem to be exactly the kind of soul that any of them would hold to.”

Yanna didn’t answer, merely continued to look out over the grass.

I grimaced. “Apologies. If that’s not something I should talk about, I won’t.”

“No, no,” Yanna demurred, glancing at me. “It’s... not what you think. Three dogs have graced me with their attentions. But perhaps I loved them too much, too, because when each one died, I mourned for quite a long time. The dogs know when your heart isn’t ready for them, and so they hold off. Another will hold to me again one day, I hope.”

“Hmm,” I hummed in understanding. “You lost one recently, then?”

She nodded. “Last winter. She was old for a wolfhound, and she collapsed one night in the snow as we stood watch. I brought her back to the tent as soon as I could, and she lingered there for some few days, but even next to the fire, she never felt warm again, and slowly faded. It was... awful to watch.”

She looked away, swallowing hard, still grief-stricken despite the passing months. I rode close to offer a pat on her arm.

“How could it not be? I’d feel no differently if something struck Rinnala. In fact, my heart skipped more than a handful of beats when that arrow struck her during the antelope hunt. It was all I could think of – I had to get to her. If she’d died, I would’ve bawled my eyes out for a month.”

Yanna’s lips quirked up in a reluctant smile, but I shrugged.

“I mean it. I don’t care if some might deem it unseemly for a Dwarf to bawl over a wolfhound, but as every wolfhound I’ve met has been a gem, I don’t apologize for it. They’re kinder to their Dwarves than we are to each other.”

“Aye, they’re better than we are, by far.” The maid’s sigh was long, but she looked more reconciled when she was done, and the expression she turned on me was grateful as well as amused. “Thank you. You don’t know what a relief it is to have someone who lets me be myself. I can say anything to you, and you don’t tell me I have to be more diplomatic, or take a longer view, or forget what a sweet charmer my previous dog was.”

Yes, I did know what a relief that that was, which was why Kíli and I were close – so close that he’d forgive me why I didn’t mention him at this moment. I gave Yanna my best smile.

“I feel the same way. I don’t have six people telling me how an heir is supposed to act every second of the day, either. I can just be myself with you. We both know the demands of the position, but at least we can gift each other a chance to be just folk, and not heirs.”

“Just folk,” Yanna sighed. “It’s not a good feeling to feel unlike other folk, is it? I can’t describe it – it’s as if I’m...”

“A commodity,” I nodded. “Some people look at me as if I’m no more than a stewpot or a sword or a horse for sale at the market. Most uncomfortable.”

“Does your uncle look at you like that?” she asked.

“No, thank goodness, and neither does Maamr,” I assured her. “In fact, it’s mostly the maids who look at me like that. Puts me right off.”

I gave a mock shudder, drawing Yanna’s laugh. “That’s one advantage to maids on the grass. No one looks at you as if you’re a stewpot.”

“Oh and oh, there are other advantages to the maids on the grass,” I grinned. “They ride their ponies like wind spirits, and they laugh enough to fill the skies, and they’re bold and wise and strong.”

Yanna’s laughter was softer, and she gave me a considering look. “Are all the lads from Thorin’s Halls so poetic with their words?”

I snorted. “Even a fool would be inspired to poetry out here! Maybe the grass has gotten boring or commonplace to you, Yanna, but not to me. There are so many kinds of green here, all different. The river isn’t just water; it looks different in the morn than it does in the eve. The dust in the air smells different when the wind blows from the north and not the west. The camp sounds different when most folk are away than it does when we feast. It sounds best of all when the small silver bells braided into a bonny maid’s lovely chestnut hair and beard are within earshot.”

Yanna gave me a wide smile, and I was thrilled when she leaned across her saddle to brush a kiss on my cheek.

“Valar, maid,” I breathed, touching my fingers to my cheek where her lips had graced it. “The grass is full of the best surprises.”

I leaned over my saddle, and dared to brush a kiss of my own not on her cheek, but on her lips. She didn’t just let me – she pressed her lips against mine, and kissed me back forthrightly. After so many wheedling, coy, kittenish caresses, this one was so much better – it was the kiss of a strong, confident, emphatic maid.

Valar, I was even more smitten.

Who knows what might’ve happened if we’d had even a handful of moments to ourselves after that?

Alas, all three of the dogs set up a bark – a wolf had ventured near. Yanna and I tore our attention from each other to scan the grass, found two telltale paths tracing forward through the grass, and hastily got bows in hand and arrows nocked. Tobaztanz led the charge with Rinnala and Taalenag flanking her, and Yanna and I charged right after. The wolves split, one veering right and the other left, but the dogs raced to cut off the rightmost one and turn it towards the edge of the grass. The ponies were thick here, too thick for us to shoot safely at the wolves, and milled as soon as they caught wolf scent on the breeze. We were reduced to yelling and waving our arms as we chased after our dogs. All three closed on to a single wolf, and we heard a lot of snarling and snapping without seeing anything but a patch of furiously ruffled grass. As we raced to help our dogs, first one wolf streaked away, then the other. We called the dogs back beside us, and they came prancing back to prop their front paws up on our saddles to receive our exuberant head scrubs for their alertness.

Of course, there was no chance to resume that thrilling moment where Clan Kahgli’s bonniest maid kissed me. Wolves were nearby, and neither the bonniest maid nor I was so foolish as to leave our ponies to the predators.

Still, in between scans across the grass, I allowed myself a smile.

I think Yanna did, too.

 

* * *

 

_Grun grinned to see the two heirs lean towards each other over their saddles. He grinned even more when they burst apart to chase a pair of wolves._

_He could make quite a nice story out of their distraction._

_He could make an even better one if he turned distraction into neglect._

_* * *_

 

I rolled up my skins and stowed them atop my cot in the family tent. Only Ilka and Issi were within; the bairn was sleeping, which meant her Maamr had the rare opportunity to work on something of her own with both hands. I offered a smile and a wave as I eased quietly back outside so as not to disturb the little one. Then I set out to find Cyth.

As I expected, the dam presided over the outdoor cooking area. A substantial expanse of canvas offered shelter from light rain as well as the sun near the big hearth, which was a blessing to those who had to prepare the meals. The shade especially was a respite during the heat of the day, offering welcome relief as the cooks chopped meat, mixed porridge, prepared stew, and so on. It was also a popular place for folk in from tending the herd to gather to exchange gossip, converse, and work together on shared tasks. I was fascinated at how several of the herders spun hair from the ponies’ manes and tails into rope, or braided it into halters and reins. Some of the goat hair also found its way into such items, but not the best winter wool, which they saved for their crafters back near the Blue Mountains.

Because it was early afternoon, most folk were still out with the herd, and Cyth was alone under the cooking shelter, perusing the contents of a big, round basket – hanks of horsehair. I’d gotten the rare time in camp just by the luck of the draw, but the opportunity was too good to waste on sleeping like the bairns. So I gave my steppe grandmother a wide smile and sat beside her.

“What’re you about to make, Cyth? A pony halter?”

Smiling, the dam shook her head. “A pair of ties for the side of the canvas are about to fray past my repairing them, so I decided to plait new ones. They’re won’t take but a few moments to make. So better I take the time now, rather than in the middle of a gale that’s too much for the old ones to stand.”

“If you show me how, I can help,” I offered.

The dam gave me a pleased nod, and pointed to the basket of stiff pony hair beside her. “A good handful, then. You know the simple three- and four-strand braids, yes?”

I gave her a grimace as I waved at my hair, messy as usual. “It might look like I don’t, but that’s not the fault of my fingers. My hair refuses to hold anything my fingers weave.”

“You’ve kept your clan braid well enough,” she observed.

“That’s because I had Fíli knot my clan beads in with linen thread,” I confided. “Maamr dyed some black for me, so it wouldn’t show.”

“A good solution,” Cyth nodded. She showed me how to use the three- and four-strand braids to make the ties; it was simple enough that I produced a passable tie in just the few moments that Cyth had promised. I started a second one, and that one was better – tighter, more even. For my third one, I separated the horsehair strands into three hanks by color, and tried braiding them that way. I liked the pattern that resulted, and Cyth grinned to see my improvisation.

“You like the fancy work, then?” Cyth asked me, smiling. When I looked blank, she pointed to the lines of embroidery on her tunic and on her head cloth.

“I do,” I nodded. “Fíli and I noticed how everyone has such work on their packs, to tell them apart, we supposed. We talked about how we’d like to decorate ours, once we have the chance to learn how.”

“That comes more during winter,” Cyth replied. “There’s less to do with the herds, mostly guarding, and the cold makes all folk glad to gather around the hearth. Did you and your brother decide on a design?”

“Fíli wants to put blades on his, of course, maybe crossed, with a white dog’s head above for Rinnala. I thought I’d put Mhornar and Alabrin atop an arrow.”

My dogs perked up at mention of their names, giving me a whuff (Alabrin) and a grin (Mhornar), which drew Cyth’s chuckle.

“They’d be pleased.” The dam reached the end of her plait and gave the ears of both dogs a playful tug. “You’re settling into working with them well.”

I nodded thanks. “They’ve set me straight, they have. They’re so good at chasing out rabbits for me, and antelope! And as for the wolves, Alabrin and Mhornar are as fierce as their prey.”

“The stewpot thanks them, and so do most of the bairns. It’s kind of you to give so many of your rabbit pelts to the littles. Winter is when we lose them, more times than not – the cold, of course. The storms off the ice bay are even fiercer than the wolves.”

“The ice bay gales are fierce in Thorin’s Halls, too. Even indoors, we have to keep the bairns so well swaddled that they look like balls with a head on top. Not many folk venture out, if at all. They stay near hearth or forge.”

“Aye, as important as it is to venture across the grass with company, it’s even more so during winter. In the summer, so many things can happen – the wolves, the heat, a dust storm, trouble with the herd, and so many more. But winter is harder. The cold, ice, and snow make falls much more dangerous, and the wolves grow bolder and fiercer as they get hungrier. We get hungrier, too, which means many folk take risks that they wouldn’t in fatter times. Keep that in mind, Kíli.”

“I will,” I assured the dam. Then I ventured to bring up what had driven me to seek her out in the first place. “I’ve... been thinking about a lot of things.”

Cyth’s sharp eyes skewered mine. “A lot of things... what in particular?”

Several of the dams with their bairns, including Ilka and Issi, had settled near to hand to chat and work on their stitching while the little ones played. “It’s... about a surprise for Fíli.”

Cyth got the reference at once, and nodded. “We’ve got enough ties. Bring the basket, please. We’ll stow it in the storage tent.”

“Yes, Cyth,” I agreed, and helped her pack the horsehair hanks back into the basket, and then took it up for her. We gave the dams and their bairns a few cheerful words as we left the shady space to them, and Cyth was nonchalant as we made our way to the storage tent. I put the horsehair basket away as directed, then we headed to the family tent.

“Bring your wolf skin and your burnisher back to my cot,” Cyth directed me, as we shed our boots. She poured tea and dug out a few biscuits while I settled Alabrin and Mhornar under my cot, then brought my things to Cyth’s space at the back of the tent. I’d never been back this far in the tent, and I hadn’t realized how decorative it was. Beautiful woven coverlets, a stuffed pillow rich with the clan’s embroidery – even the sheer sleeping draperies to keep off insects had brightly colored borders. Cyth folded herself down on the head of her cot, gestured for me to sit at the foot, and laid a flat board between us to hold the teacups and basket of biscuits.

“Now, give me your wolf skin,” Cyth beckoned, so I handed it over. As she unrolled it, she continued, “The tent sides are up, so we’ll see folk approaching before they come in, but it never hurts to keep the hands busy, as they say. So tell me what you’ve rolled around in that head of yours.”

I had to be careful not to violate the promise I’d made not to speak of Klyn’s troubles, but I didn’t have to be completely silent. After all, Cyth knew about his comment about Fíli’s pack, and had talked to him extensively, trying to shake a word loose, without success. Still, I didn’t speak of my friend at first as Cyth and I worked on my skin, and described only what I’d thought about Grun and Ankulaz.

It didn’t take but a few words before Cyth’s lips thinned, her posture got hard, and her burnisher lay forgotten in her hand. She didn’t offer any recognition of the plight that the Urghul heir might be in – of course not, not with the mystery of what had happened to her granddaughter, Yanna’s mother, so seared into Kahgli’s history. And without a word about Klyn’s situation, my story was even more tenuous. So I ventured to observe that Ankulaz wasn’t the only Dwarf holding silence about the camp.

“Who?” Cyth grilled me. “Who else holds silence? Grun? Mahal, to shake a few gems out of his thoughts would do us all a world of good.”

“He’s up to something, yes,” I agreed. “If anyone is bullying Ankulaz, it’s him.”

Cyth snorted. “Serves the bastard right. I still hold him responsible for... well, never mind that.”

“You think he had a hand in the death of Yanna’s mother,” I said as calmly as I could, which wasn’t very calm. When Cyth glared at me, I couldn’t suppress a wince. If I thought I felt guilty for no reason when she’d looked at me before, it was nothing so severe as what I felt now. But I didn’t drop my eyes.

“Who told you that?!” she growled.

“Um, Yanna did. She told Fíli and me. We wanted to understand why Kahgli and Urghul are at such odds.”

“And how many folk did you tell in your turn?”

“None,” I countered, but softly. “Barkhuzi told me no one really knew much, so we respected Yanna’s confidence.”

Cyth unwound a little at that, but that was no better than to watch a wolf just a foot away settle on its belly to gnaw a bone – it was still just a foot away, and dangerous, even if it didn’t contemplate having you for supper.

“That saves me from explaining why I have no sympathy for Clan Urghul’s heir,” Cyth sniffed. If her hands tightened any harder on my wolf pelt, she’d tear it, so I kept my silence. “No matter how miserable his circumstances, he still lives, and my granddaughter doesn’t.”

Oh and oh and oh, this was a part of diplomacy that I’d never confronted before. Cyth was so angry, but underneath her anger was grief for a death, and frustration for not being able to see justice done to the murderer. That was a terrible burden to bear. I’d never reach her unless I convinced her to look past a grudge that was older than I was, and I didn’t know if anyone could do that, especially me. I was the youngest in the camp not considered a bairn, and that was only because Cyth and Derfrulia treated me as such. If I weren’t careful, that’d change in a flash, and I’d be sent on my way with well-boxed ears.

“Um, from what Yanna told us, who killed your granddaughter isn’t sure,” I ventured oh-so-carefully. When Cyth looked fit to rip my wolf skin in two, I held my hands up hastily. “I-I mean, if you think about how drunk Tobazel and Ankulaz were... at least they sounded very, very drunk to hear Yanna tell it, and I do believe her, of course... I just wondered... if they were both that drunk, how were they able to sneak up on your granddaughter and your son to ambush them? That would’ve called for a lot more stealth and wits, and a lot less drunkenness. Look at how fumbly Ankulaz was when he and Grun fought, yes? He was drunk from toes to eyes, and he wasn’t the least bit stealthy, was he?”

If anything, Cyth’s glare grew hotter... but I remembered what Fíli had said about arguing with Uncle – the hotter the glare, the better you’d made your point. So I held firm, and tried not to melt under that terrible, terrible stare.

“What does a bairn know about drunkenness?” Cyth spat from between clenched teeth.

All right, now I was angry, even though I’d thought this might happen. I swallowed that down, made myself as cold inside as the ice bay we’d heard so much of, and I stared back without apology.

“Not as much as my elders, and without apology. But there’s something I do know about far better than anyone out here, and it’s bullying. I have been hounded and hounded and hounded, Cyth, until I wanted to die. I tried to die, just to escape them. You don’t know what that’s like. No one other than Melkor deserves such cruelty.”

Cyth’s glare crumbled into shock. I swallowed hard – Valar, before long, the entire camp would know what a weakling I was – but I tried not to show my shame as I plowed on.

“There are two Dwarves among us who I’d bet my best bow are being bullied, and I’d bet my second best bow that Grun is the bully,” I growled. “Ankulaz is the first. He’s been isolated, and probably fed all manner of lies to keep him that way, maybe to keep Urghul and Kahgli at each other’s throats. The other one... I’ve given my word to say nothing of him, but it takes only sharp eyes to figure out who he is, because he huddles as close to other folk as antelope do to each other to guard against the wolves. He does that because he’s afraid, because he doesn’t want to give anyone the chance to isolate him. I understand that Urghul’s done nothing to earn anything but Kahgli’s contempt, but what if some of that isn’t what it seems?”

“You know very little of what happened to my granddaughter,” Cyth challenged, but at least her tone had softened the least bit.

“Maybe not. But from what Yanna said, no one but your granddaughter and your grandson were there, and Mulgrum didn’t see what happened. So no one can say any better than anyone else, other than the attacker. That is the best reason why it’d pay all of Kahgli well to think about the bullying.”

Cyth’s voice was low, furious, affronted. “Why should we?”

Oh, Valar, I was mere seconds from getting myself thrown out of the clan, off the grass, never to return. I wished Mhornar and Alabrin were beside me, offering their abundant comfort and reassurance that I’d come to rely on so much. I could almost feel Alabrin’s long nose poking between my shoulder blades, and Mhornar’s silent whuff beside me...

And of course, there they were. They’d known I needed them, and they’d come to stand on either side of Cyth’s cot, right at my shoulders.

I was so grateful that I looped an arm around each of them, drawing them close. With them beside me, I could risk all to say the unthinkable.

“What if there’s more to this than Ankulaz being bullied where Kahgli can see it? What if he had no hand in your granddaughter’s death? If he didn’t, wouldn’t you want to know who did?”

For the longest moment, Cyth’s dark eyes bored into mine, so full of fury that I wondered what kept me from melting. I’d messed this up well and proper, I had; I was inches from being thrashed and then tossed out on my head, never to be welcome on the grass again.

Mhornar silently growled.

I didn’t dare move or speak, because I didn’t want Cyth to know that my protective queen had voiced her displeasure. But Cyth’s gaze shifted from me to my dog, and it seemed as if the pair had a bit of a silent conversation. Cyth’s lips curled as if she were displeased, but when she returned her regard to me, it was less furious, if no less affronted. She tossed my wolf skin back into my lap.

“The water skins for the tent need refilling.”

When I scrambled off the cot, my beautiful, loyal, steadfast, wonderful dogs backed up with me. “I’ll see to them right away. And thank you for the tea.”

I didn’t wait for Cyth to reply, just made my escape with a silent exhale of utter relief. She sent no words after me as I left my wolf skin on my cot, hastily pulled on my boots, grabbed the water skins, and ducked out of the tent.

I ran halfway to the river before I slowed. After I dropped the water skins, I stooped to gather Alabrin and Mhornar into my arms, and bury my face in their fur.

“You saved me, both of you,” I murmured softly, which was nothing but truth. Without them to stand beside me, how much harder would it have been to bear Cyth's fury? I wasn't sure I could have done so.

Alabrin whined softly, and Mhornar nuzzled my ear through my tangled hair. We stayed that way for a few seconds, until I had told them how much I loved them. It was only a fraction of what they deserved to hear, but as I’d need days to give them the full measure of that tale, these few moments would have to do. Eventually, the exuberant Alabrin wriggled loose from my hug, and bounced around me, ready to play. That lightened my mood, and I could laugh again. For her part, Mhornar favored me with her favorite wide-gaping grin, so I shouldered the quartet of water skins and continued on towards the river.

I hoped I hadn’t done badly with Cyth. I’d learned the hard way that to hold silence about unpleasant truths never made them any easier to bear. Maybe it was a good sign that Cyth hadn’t told me to hold silence about what I’d said. At least I could talk to Fíli about it when we had a private moment. And maybe Cyth would talk to others in the clan, and they’d see Klyn’s fear, and maybe even Ankulaz’s isolation.

Then maybe they’d confront what simmered underneath the surface of more than the plight of two Dwarves.

I filled the four water skins, slung them over my shoulders, and started slowly back to camp. Halfway there, my name echoed across the grass. There were Fíli and Yanna with Rinnala, Taalenag, and Tobaztanz ranging ahead, returning from tending the herds. Both wore cheerful grins as they waved to me, so they’d returned safely from their watch. After surviving my conversation with Cyth, how good was it to wave back with enthusiasm, just because I saw smiling faces again? They swerved towards the briar enclosure to see to their ponies, so I picked up my pace to intercept them.

I had so much to tell my brother.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ankulaz mourns, Grun slinks, and Fíli and Kíli plan.
> 
> The wolfhounds and horses think this is a fine game, and contribute accordingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In 3429 of the Second Age, Sauron's machinations just before his attack on the newly-founded Gondor caused a certain mountain to begin erupting again. The Dúnedain named that mountain Amon Amarth, or Mount Doom. 
> 
> Translation Notes:
> 
> comys thoyn = Dwarvish equivalent of fukkin' a  
> dahaut = shit (Orcish)  
> nar thos kurvanog = fucking eunuch (Orcish)  
> gajarpan langaturz = dirty snake (Orcish)  
> skator kurvanog = fucking hell (Orcish)  
> daguli kurvanog = fucking demons (Orcish)

_The heir sat over his supper with his back towards the tents, but he cast a brief glance through the hacked remnants of his hair, towards the common cooking fire. Grun let a moment pass without comment, but then hunkered down beside Ankulaz with seeming commiseration._

_“Aye, it’s not right, them shunning you, no matter how drunk you were,” Grun murmured. “Urghul never cared about how much anyone drank. Prissy maids, that’s Kahgli.”_

_The heir turned back to his bowl without a word._

_“Aye, that’s right, show them that you bear their punishment as a proper sire would. Don’t give them the satisfaction to know that you look at them with anything more than contempt. That’s only fair – they certainly look at you with contempt. Won’t even extend the most basic courtesies to you, not even the sip of arkhi at the door of their damned tents.”_

_“I don’t blame them for that. Arkhi is even less of a friend to me than Kahgli is.”_

_“You were mourning.” Grun aped another sad face of commiseration. “Kahgli was hard not to understand that. Any Dwarf in his cups would’ve been just as angry about such a loss, even though Kahgli’s shown no interest in learning which of their own caused it. That alone was reason enough for your words to them.”_

_“You said I insulted them all roundly.”_

_This time, Grun aped reluctant embarrassment, then steadfast support. “Eh... but it’s not like any of their own hasn’t said such things, is it? Everyone gripes when a clan head is unfair. Look at the stir that flies around Tobazel, but he just answers it with his own bluster, and everyone settles. Kahgli’s different... more intolerant. You can’t expect that bitch Derfrulia to forgive even a cross look, much less any insults. She’s insecure, that one is. But you’ll prove them wrong, won’t you? You won’t ask for quarter like a weakling. You’ll stay strong. That’s what Tobazel would expect from his proper heir.”_

_More like stupid, blind, ignorant, and biddable. As for being a proper heir, that was only by the acknowledgement of a vicious sire._

_As if he’d heard Grun’s innermost thoughts, Ankulaz gave him a brief look, then cast another towards the fire before he dropped his eyes back to his bowl._

_Was that reproach in the heir’s eyes?_

_It was too dangerous to let that pass._

_“We could just go home,” Grun whispered. “There’s no shame in admitting when a burden’s too much to bear, especially such an unfair one. Kahgli would jump at the chance to see the last of Urghul’s heir.”_

_Ankulaz swallowed hard, but Grun wanted to drive the point home even harder._

_“Aye,” Grun hung his head. “You’re right. Tobazel wouldn’t understand.”_

_If Ankulaz’s swallow had been painful before, now it was all but a choke, a gasp, a groan._

_Good. The bastard heir was properly cowed again... for now._

_It was too much to hope that he’d remain so for much longer._

_The Kahgli and Durin heirs had given him threads to spin into a fine web this morn. If he were clever, perhaps he could play the cursed Urghul heir’s weaknesses off theirs. If he were lucky as well as clever, the result might trap three clans into mutual destruction._

_If only. What a savor that would bring!_

_* * *_

 

Yanna and I saw no more wolves for the duration of the afternoon. The time seemed to pass like water through my fingers, impossible to retain for even a second longer. Yet how badly did I want those moments to endure? The sky overhead seemed bluer when it was the frame for Yanna’s lovely chestnut hair. The light seemed brighter when it mirrored the twinkle in Yanna’s eyes. The breeze seemed softer when I thought of the light caress that Yanna’s lips had left on mine. Even the threat of attacking wolves seemed heightened because it reinforced how rare this peaceful stretch of grass really was. At any moment, everything could change...

Everything had changed with one simple kiss.

When a pair of Dwarves came to send us back to camp, it was as if a huge part of my life were about to end, and all before I’d had but the taste of what it could be. I’d rarely spun dreams during the day, only when Master Balin’s lectures had palled most, and then it was to wonder what it had been like before the gates of Moria with Uncle, Master Dwalin, Master Balin, and the rest of my folk during the Battle of Azanulbizar, or what Erebor was like before the fire drake came. But today I wondered what it would be like to spend my life on the grass beside the bonny maid beside me, and how her least smile made my knees wobble.

I was sorry to see the tents of Kahgli’s summer camp appear bit by bit, floating above the grass. It meant I had to remember who and what I was, which was only the sister’s son of a poor clan, and young, and a contract hunter. What was worse... as Yanna had duties, obligations, and responsibilities, so did I.

Did the smile that Yanna turned on me as we approached the tents have the least bit of sadness in it?

Mine did.

We drew close to the river to let our ponies have a short drink before we took them back to the tents, but neither of us spoke. I won’t say it was all sighs and sad looks, but there was no teasing or silly jokes, either. I remained mounted to cast a watchful eye over the grass while Yanna took her own drink, and steadfastly did not watch how delicately she scooped the water up to her mouth, or how much she enjoyed the clear taste, or how a drop or two gemmed the fringe of her lovely beard. Nor did I watch how easily she resumed her seat on her pony, or nodded thanks to me for my courtesy, or whether she watched me take my own drink (she did). I barely noticed Rinnala wading in nearly to her elbows with her mates so that she could have her drink without having to lower her head enough to risk gulping air with the water.

I did notice when all three of the dogs capered out of the water and shook hard, because I was right in the path of the spray.

Rinnala’s coy grin revealed that she’d picked her spot to shake quite deliberately.

“Cheeky maid,” I protested, as Yanna laughed, which of course made everything fine.

I remounted, and we resumed our ride to the tents. We hadn’t gone far when we spotted Kíli traipsing back to camp laden with water skins and Alabrin and Mhornar beside him. A few of the unattached dogs left in camp were trotting out to join him.

When Yanna called to him, it was the end of the best few hours of my life.

It wasn’t Kíli’s fault that those few hours were over, so I sent my herald after Yanna’s, and matched her wave with my own. My brother’s answering grin was bright and welcoming, and his wave was enthusiastic, and I was glad to see both...

Neither compared with the kiss of a bonny maid, but that wasn’t Kíli’s fault, either.

I followed Yanna to the briar enclosure to see to our sturdy ponies. I removed saddle, saddlecloth, and reins, brushed and groomed and tended –

“Fíli!” Kíli was beside me with his bright smile. “Here, I’ll help you with your tack.”

My eager brother already had my saddle in his hands, following Yanna out of the briar enclosure and back to the equipment tent with it to wipe it clean and store it on its rack.

“Kíl, wait –” I hurried after him to grab the saddle. “I’ve got it, Kíl. You don’t have to do it for me.”

“But I want to,” my brother protested, even though he let me ease the saddle from his hands. He cast a wary glance at Yanna. “I’ve got something to tell you –”

“Give me a moment, Kíl – just...”

At my brother’s confused look, I glared at him, looked pointedly at Yanna, and then back at him. It took him several precious seconds to get it, but finally his face cleared.

“Oh... oh. I’m sorry, Fíli, I didn’t –”

“Just give me a moment, all right? I’ll be right back.”

I hurried after Yanna, leaving my brother to stand just outside the briar enclosure. He looked...

Something.

I’d sort it out soon, right after I had one last moment beside Yanna. Would she say anything to me? Oh and oh, what if she offered me another kiss? I rushed into the tent –

Yanna squatted by the hearth with two herders, chatting as she wiped down her saddle.

I kept my sigh silent as I joined the trio to tend to my saddle. I was done before Yanna was through talking to the pair, so I excused myself, put my saddle on an open peg, and went back out into the light.

The magical dream was over.

Kíli wasn’t in sight, so I went back to the brush enclosure where I’d seen him last, to see if I could spot him. Oh and oh, there were Rinnala, Alabrin, and Mhornar outside, as well as a few of the unattached wolfhounds, so my brother must have returned inside. Yes, there he was beside the pony I’d just returned, checking her hooves.

Was I angry because he’d gone behind me to check my pony, as if he didn’t trust me do to for her myself, or because I’d been too smitten with a bonny maid to tend my pony properly?

I swallowed my anger, because Kíli didn’t deserve it. If I wanted to be angry with anyone, I should be angry with myself, especially if I’d neglected my pony. There was no excuse for that, bonny maid or not.

Still... when I asked Kíli whether I’d missed something, I couldn’t keep irritation out of my voice.

Kíli let the pony’s hoof slide out of his hands, and he turned a neutral look on me. Oh, Valar, that was the look he gave those he expected to give him shit. I winced, and held up my hand.

“Sorry, brother. I probably did miss something. I was... distracted.”

Kíli’s neutral look crumbled into a snicker, but a quiet one. “This maid’s fine. How was that one?”

I winced again. “Valar, Kíl. She’s the Kahgli heir. What’re you thinking?”

“More than you, doh kro. Did anybody see you?”

I reddened, which banished Kíli’s teasing grin faster than lightning.

“Valar, Fíli! Are you mad?”

“There was nothing to see, Kíli! What do you take me for? I’m not that stupid?”

“You’re redder than Uncle when he’s pissed at both of us. What happened?”

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing,” I insisted. “She’s just...”

“You’re mooning like a bairn. A big red moon.”

“I am not!” I hissed, but Kíli’s face wore nothing but blatant skepticism. “Eh, she’s a bonny maid, and who wouldn’t think about her, all right?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“You’re the rare exception. I’m not. But that’s all I’ve done – think about her.”

Kíli looked away to stroke the pony’s flank, then cut me a wary look. “Be careful, Fíl. Just... be careful.”

“I will, all right? I will. So what did you have to tell me?”

Kíli’s look turned warier, even calculating, which was not a common expression to play over my brother’s features. In response, my stomach turned the slightest bit unsettled.

“Valar, that’s a look. Come on, I want something to eat, but then we can retreat to our blankets for you to tell me.”

Kíli tensed. “Not in the tent. Out on the grass. We can pretend to work on our skins.”

“What’s wrong with the tent?” I frowned.

Kíli swallowed. “I... talked to Cyth.”

“About what?”

A long pause. “That’s... what I want to tell you. Things.”

“What things?”

“Things I’ve seen.”

I snorted. “Of course you’ve seen things, you doh kro. Which ones did you talk to her about?”

Another long pause was finally followed with a marshaling exhale. “I’m hungry, too. I’ll tell you once we’ve eaten, and we’re away from folk.”

Not another word would he say until we’d stuffed ourselves with stew and flatbread and tea, fetched our skins, and retreated just out of earshot of the tents. Our dogs as well as four or five of the unattached dogs lay around us, resting in the bright sun while Kíli and I worked on our wolf skins. It took a few moments for Kíli to speak, and it was only after he’d eyed the grass all around to make sure no one could hear. Then in a low voice, he laid out his case for Klyn and Ankulaz and Grun. My brother made a plausible tale, but I winced when he confessed how angry Cyth had been when he’d told her.

“ _Comys thoyn_ , brother!” I snorted. “You chastise me about mooning over a maid –”

“Oh, you admit it,” Kíli shot back.

“Yes, I admit it,” I retorted. “But you asking the mother of Clan Kahgli to feel sympathy for a blood enemy? That’s even more outrageous.”

“I think my tale is true, Fíli,” Kíli said stubbornly. “And if it is, why does Grun act the villain?”

“I... don’t know,” I admitted, after long consideration. “I can’t think of a good reason.”

“I can’t, either,” Kíli agreed, and looked to his burnisher for several rubs. “It’s not like I don’t know what the right question is, though – it’s what Master Balin thumped into me over and over again.”

“Me along with you. ‘Who stands to gain?’ That’s what Master Balin always asked. So who stands to gain here?”

“It’s obvious about Ankulaz – if Grun rules the Urghul heir, then he rules Urghul itself,” Kíli said. “But Klyn... that’s not so obvious.”

“Maybe he knows something about Klyn that Klyn doesn’t want anyone else to know?” I suggested.

“Aye, that’s plausible,” Kíli allowed. “Something about Klyn before he joined Kahgli?”

“That’s plausible, too,” I nodded. “But Klyn said he was an orphan.”

Kíli rolled his eyes. “Even orphans come from somewhere, doh kro.”

“You're the doh kro, arsehole. It’s not likely Klyn’s from a settlement, though – such folk don’t like it out here.”

“I do,” Kíli murmured, cutting his eyes to me, then looking back at my wolf pelt.

“Course you do, and so do I,” I agreed stoutly. “This time, we’re both the exceptions.”

Kíli gave me a grateful smile. “So... you think I’ve guessed right about the bullying?”

It was clear that Kíli wanted my approval, so my nod was firm and immediate. “You know the signs better than any of us, brother, I’m sorry to say, because you’ve lived it. Nothing’s ever certain, but yes, I think you’re more right than you’re not.”

Kíli’s smile was gratified. “Thank you, Fíl.”

“Is that why you talked to Cyth?”

“You were... working,” Kíli gave me a quick smirk, just enough to tell me that he hadn’t forgotten my preoccupation with Yanna. “So she was my second choice. But... Valar, Fíli.”

Kíli looked reflective, so I nudged him with my toe. “What, Kíl?”

He exhaled, then shrugged. “When I talked to Cyth, I realized some things about what being a heir means that I hadn’t before.”

“What things?”

Another exhale. “Some things have been easier for me than you, for starters. Uncle’s harder on you than me because you have to be responsible all the time. If I cut up or fall asleep in Master Balin’s lessons, it’s not so dire. But for you, it’s always dire.”

“Um...” I gaped. “I didn’t think you noticed.”

“I did before, just... not as much as now. When I talked to Cyth, it was so clear – the being responsible, I mean. She’s had twenty-five years to make up a tale about what happened to Yanna’s Maamr, and who did it, and why. Then this outsider bairn, me, blunders in to tell her that maybe her tale isn’t the right one, that maybe one of the Dwarves she blames for it all might not be what she thinks. It was hard to steer a course through that, because I didn’t want to say that wrong hadn’t been done, or that her grief was wrong.”

I shut my mouth. “Valar, brother. You didn’t sleep through as many lessons as I thought.”

Kíli smothered a gleeful, yet relieved, chortle. “Maybe not.”

“So did you convince her?”

Kíli’s shrug was reluctant. “She didn’t pitch me out on my ear, she didn’t banish me, and she didn’t tell me not to say anything about what I told her, so... maybe that’s something. But I don’t expect her to help me sort out whether I’ve guessed right or not. I don’t expect to get any better reaction from anyone else, either. So I still don’t know what to do.”

“We’d be within our rights to do nothing.”

Kíli swallowed. “Aye... but bullying never stops, Fíli. It gets worse. How can I watch that?”

I hummed in agreement, then lapsed into silence while we burnished away. My skin was almost done, and with a bit of sewing, it’d make a fine hood for colder weather.

“The only way to find out if you’re right or not is to talk to three lads,” I said.

Kíli gave me a scoff. “Grun is a viper, and I’m not about to let him bite me. Besides, I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell him what we suspect.”

“ _Dahaut_ , no. If he’s the one who shot at me, then he’s fucking dangerous, and best we stay away from him.”

“Agreed."

"That leaves Klyn and Ankulaz.”

Kíli hummed. “I tried talking to Klyn. I told him that I... understood what it was like to be bullied, and that he didn’t have to bear it alone.”

“True. But neither of us has talked to Ankulaz. He keeps to himself so much.”

“Or Grun keeps him isolated,” Kíli growled darkly. “He won’t be easy to get to.”

“Then we’ll both have to keep an eye out,” I agreed. “Just a word here or there might help... or not. If Grun’s spun a tale about Kahgli, he might not be open to anything we say.”

“We’re Durin,” Kíli said simply. “Not Kahgli. Maybe that’d make him listen to us more than he would anyone from Kahgli.”

“We’ll have to see. Though... what would we say to him if we had the chance? Just a friendly word, whether he pays heed or not?”

Kíli nodded. “Aye, that’s a good start for you to make.”

“And what’re you going to say to him?”

At first Kíli looked ashamed, then determined. “Just what I told Klyn – that I’d been bullied, and if that’s what was happening to him, he needed to tell someone. If he held silence, he played into the bully’s hands. If he spoke up, his friends would support him.”

Aye, Kíli knew the truth behind that. He hadn’t wanted to say anything when folk had first turned on him, because they’d convinced him that he’d deserved their contempt. It wasn’t until I’d found out and punched a few thick Dwarves that he’d said anything. Once I knew, I helped him hold a lot of it off for a while, if not forever.

“Ankulaz doesn’t have any friends to support him. And before you say that you’d support him, think about why Kahgli hates him so – they think he had a hand in Helglor’s death. What if they’re right, and he had?”

Kíli nodded. “Aye. We’ll have to get a clear sense from Ankulaz about that before we say anything else, much less offer Durin’s support.”

I grinned at my thoughtful brother. “Master Balin would be proud of you. So would Uncle.”

Kíli offered me a rude noise, then an impudent grin. “What about you?”

“I miss my prank-playing brother.”

“He’s still here. I’m still working on that eerily fucking second. If I can pull that off, it’ll be my best prank so far.”

“I’m all for it.” I waved my hand to take in the half dozen unattached dogs that had settled around us. “Maybe they can help you.”

“Maybe so. I can’t tell how yet, but I’ll think of something. But I have one more thing to confess, brother.”

“What?”

“What I said to Klyn about being bullied... I told Cyth, too, so she believed what I thought was happening to Ankulaz. I know – the entire camp will soon know what a weakling I am, but maybe they’ll overlook it because I can hunt the wolves.”

I leaned over to shake Kíli hard. “You’re not a weakling, doh kro. You never have been. You stood up to every _nar thos kurvanog,_ every time. You didn’t let them cow you, not once. Now you want to help Klyn and Ankulaz, and that’s not weakness, either. That’s more than kind – it’s compassionate, and just, and every inch a Durin. So no one’s ever going to call you weak.”

Kíli blinked, then that silly, gleeful grin wreathed his face, and he snickered. “Valar... I may have a ways to go to pull off that eerily fucking second, but I’ve managed to convince my brother that I’m _responsible._ If Maamr were here, she’d box your ears for being so simple.”

I snickered back. “If Maamr were here, she wouldn’t bother with the ears on either of us – she’d haul Grun up by his, and then she’d kick his arse all the way to Amon Amarth and down the mountain’s throat, wouldn’t she?”

“Haranguing the _gajarpan langaturz_ the whole way,” Kíli agreed, laughing softly, shaking Alabrin’s head when he poked his long nose into Kíli’s back. “That’d be a sight worth seeing.”

“Oh and oh, it would,” I chortled. “Eh, I think my wolf skin’s done. Yours?”

Kíli eyed his, and nodded. “Maybe just a bit on the last paw, but...” He draped the head of his over his messy hair, and arranged the rest down his back with the front paws looped across his chest. “Yes?”

Kíli might want to sew a strip of rawhide around the bottom of the head skin to keep it on his head, but other than that, it was fine. It turned my little brother into a fierce warrior of the grass, because its black fur melted seamlessly into his dark hair, and gave him a wild and feral air.

“Eerie. Seriously eerie.”

Kíli’s gleeful squeak wasn’t eerie or serious, but it made me laugh.

“Put yours on. Let me see.”

When I did, pure mischief danced in Kíli’s eyes.

“Oh, _skator kurvanog_ , Fíli, it’s brilliant! Just fucking brilliant.”

“Then stick your burnisher in your belt, brother. Let’s get a couple of the horses to school, and see who we can convince that we both can ride the Taalderfruli.”

“Yes!” Kíli scrambled to his feet. “ _Daguli kurvanog_ , yes!”

I was just as eager and excited as my brother, and we ran to find Merruli. As fast as we could throw saddles aback a pair of the young horses, we flew out over the grass, wolf skins flying behind us like demons’ hair, and a full flight of dogs as escort.

We had a lot of careful probing ahead of us, and I hadn’t forgotten the kiss I’d gotten from the bonniest of maids this morn. But the sun was falling towards a glorious sunset, and the horse under me was just as eager for a run as I was, so I raced after Kíli with an exuberant laugh.

My brother had chosen a dark horse, of course.

 

* * *

 

_The two Durins raced across the grass, vying to see which of them rode the fastest horse. Not ponies – two of the tall horses that were the mystery and pride of Kahgli’s herds. The gangrel was in the lead when his horse seemed to leap wildly in the air, twisting and bucking. Good, served the benighted gangrel right – he’d find himself thrown well and proper for daring to ride such an immense beast._

_If only he’d get run over by the heir’s mount, or break his neck. How savory would that be?_

_The gangrel stayed as tightly on the back of his dark horse as if he were part of him. He brought the horse’s hooves safely back to the ground, and set off again after the heir as if nothing had happened. He even laughed as if the moment had been exciting, rather than the thin edge of disaster._

_So far, it was true what Kahgli said – the gangrel could ride anything._

_Kazunki had said the gangrel could ride even the Taalderfruli._

_Kazunki had been a superstitious fool. There was no Taalderfruli._

_The gangrel overtook the heir, and when they turned their mounts back towards camp, the gangrel’s horse reared at full extension. Again, the gangrel stayed aback, laughing. Around him, at least eight of the cursed wolfhounds capered like attendants._

_Maybe there was no Taalderfruli, but wild, tall horses and mystical wolfhounds were real enough, and they attended the gangrel as they did no Urghul._

_A faint chill edged up Grun’s spine._


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grun sows some seeds... but so do Fíli and Kíli.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> skator = hell (Orcish)  
> skator kurvanog = fucking hell (Orcish)  
> gajarpan vaudhomuurz kurvanog = sneaky fucking snake (Orcish)

_The chill creeping up Grun’s spine sent his skin into gooseflesh. Snakes take that bastard gangrel! If only his eldritch talents on the back of a horse would frighten Kahgli so badly that they’d stone him out of existence! But no, the fucking pony clan was too busy with dreams of winning their cursed race come the fall. The heir wasn’t as masterful as his brother, but he was more than able, and no shirker. Serpents should strike him, too, for the spell he cast upon the maids with his courtesy and consideration._

_Grun shifted his gaze from the gangrel and the heir, and turned it on the outdoor kitchen. The dams and their get still gathered under the sheltering canvas near the cooking fires. None of them would turn an ear his way. Had the snake-spawn dam poisoned their ears against him? Aye, she’d do that, and worse, in a heartbeat. The lads and sires, though..._

_No matter that Kahgli heeded their dams and not their sires. The males would give him more credence, and if he spun his tale well, they’d soon forget that he’d told the first version of it. They’d make it their own without much effort, and that suited him well. May the gangrel and the heir bear the brunt of them._

_A hunter had just stepped away from the communal kitchen pots with a big bowl of stew for his luncheon. What was his name? Fassen? No, Hassen. Hassen and his wolfhound trundled towards the fire pit that protected the nightly beacon fire. Another herder was already there, sitting on the ring of stones that circled the fire pit. Grun ambled to the kitchen pots and spooned out a bowl for himself, then ambled toward the pair by the fire pit. He meandered close enough to hear their low conversation. Good, they watched the heir and the gangrel cavorting on their horses._

_“’T is a thing of beauty to watch those lads on our horses,” Hassen nodded to old Drogal beside him. Good; Drogal was a talkative one; he helped oversee the youngest hunters, and never failed to spin a tail out of their doings._

_“Aye, Barkhuzi’s brought ‘em along well,” old Drogal nodded sagely. “Look at ‘em both! Sticking to Orrud and Kulomar like windseed burs!”_

_Grun edged closer. “Would they be the Durin lads?” he asked innocently._

_Both Hassen and Drogal gave him suspicious looks, but Drogal nodded shortly. “Aye, that’s the pair of them. Fíli’s just in from the grass, and Kíli’s had his rest morn, but both of them took an extra turn to school two of the yearlings. Hard workers as usual, both of them. Earned them both good names.”_

_Whether Drogal’s last words were a slur on Grun’s name didn’t matter. Grun ignored it and raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You said the Durin heir’s just off the grass? Hmm. I thought...”_

_“Thought what?” Drogal asked, right on key._

_Grun ignored the truculent tone and pretended to regard the gangrel and the heir thoughtfully. After a moment, he shrugged and offered a half smile. “It’s nothing. I must be mistaken.”_

_“About what?” Hassen pressed._

_“I made a mistake,” Grun shrugged again. “When I was out on the grass, I thought I saw the Durin heir dabbling with Yanna. But there are plenty of blond Kahgli lads, so I must have been mistaken.”_

_“Did you spy on them?” Drogal demanded. “Why weren’t your eyes on the herds?”_

_“My eyes were on the herds,” Grun countered in an injured tone. “I thought the tussle in the grass was a wolf after a foal, so I thought it prudent to have a closer look.” He shrugged again and let his smile go a bit wider, as if he shared an indulgent joke with friends. “Yanna’s a formidable maid, she is, and well able to fend off anyone who doesn’t please her. Once I saw that she looked well pleased, I left them to each other.”_

_“Did you, now?” Drogal glowered at Grun. “And you couldn’t wait to sing the tale, could you? What interest is Yanna’s business of yours?”_

_“Fíli’s a good lad. Some folk could do worse than follow his example,” Hassen added._

_“Aye, it’s the Kahgli way, to support each other without question,” Grun agreed. “That’s why I was glad to support the two heirs out on the grass... if it was even the Durin heir. Whoever it was with Yanna, I made sure that the herd came to no harm while they were... distracted.”_

_Hassen and Drogal exchanged looks. No matter that they looked unconvinced. Grun shrugged again as he spooned up some of his stew and chewed thoughtfully._

_“As you say, the Durin heir is a hard worker, and well liked, especially by the maids, so it’d be no surprise if Yanna’s taken with him, too. And in a year, he’ll go back to his clan, so there’s no reason to worry. Durin’s poor, and Yanna isn’t so taken with him that she’d ever consider leaving the grass with him.”_

_When Hassen and Drogal exchanged looks this time, they weren’t so confident. Grun pretended not to notice before he walked away, and he kept his satisfied smile invisible. It was enough to know that at least one of his seeds had fallen on fertile soil._

 

* * *

 

Fíli and I had so much fun racing Orrud and Kulomar up and down the grass! Kulomar was well-named – his dark coat was even blacker than that of his sire, Lathga, and he was so full of himself that he was as dangerous to ride as he was swift to outpace any horse that ran against him. Once he outgrew his habit of rearing and kept his hooves on the ground, he’d be even faster. As for Orrud, he was as red as the most vivid sunset, calmer, and almost as fast as Kulomar. That made them evenly matched, and Fíli and I had a good race. I hoped that my riding would soon improve enough that I could ride the exuberant Kulomar without a saddle, as Barkhuzi did, but I wasn’t quite ready to stick to the back of a rearing horse as well as my friend did without relying on stirrups and saddle. Even so, I got better every day, and so did Fíli. How delirious it was to let the horses expend their youthful energy, and ours, in a thunderous, headlong ride nearly to the end of the flat space before we turned them back towards home.

Now that the horses had taken the edge off their high spirits, they were much more attentive to the schooling Fíli and I gave them. It took patience to teach the horses how to collect their hooves under them, and to walk, trot, canter, and gallop on command. So we urged the flight of dogs back – not easy, as there must’ve been a dozen out with us, not just our three – so as not to distract Orrud and Kulomar, and began our lesson. We made careful circles to teach them how to turn properly, big ones for now. Merruli and Barkhuzi would coax them into the proper conformation to make smaller circles once we had them capable of the larger ones. They’d also teach them how to switch leads at a canter, a maneuver they called a flying change. When done properly, that’s just what it looked like – one moment, the horse cantered with the left leg leading, then at the signal, the horse did a little hop to canter with the right leg leading. It was such an elegant move! I couldn’t wait for Barkhuzi to teach me how to signal that.

At length, the horses were tired, and so were we. Neither my brother nor I wanted to push the horses before they were ready, nor did we want to lose the privilege to help with the horses this way, so we took care. We walked the horses the last bit home, so that they’d be cool and comfortable, and need less walking after we returned them to Merruli. Walking was good for the dogs, too, for they’d be cool enough for their meat by the time we reached the tents.

Of course, once the glamor of flying across the grass was over, reality sank in once more. The sun beat down on the grass, and wolf pelt hoods were hot. When I pulled mine off and draped it over the front of my saddle, Fíli followed suit. Then I considered the two main questions before us. How could Fíli and I get to Ankulaz? And what could either of us say to Klyn to urge him to break his silence?

“We’ll just have to be ready to take even the least chance that comes our way,” Fíli shrugged, after we’d considered in silence for a long while.

I snorted, but quietly. “Something this important can’t be left to chance, doh kro. Where would most of my best pranks be if I’d done that? They took a lot of thought, so that when they happened, they looked like magic.”

“Like that pie filling one,” my brother snickered. “I still don’t know how you did that.”

“Course not,” I snorted back. “If you’d sorted it out, then Maamr would’ve sorted it out even faster, and I wouldn’t have been able to sit down for a week. And no, I’m not going to tell you how I did it. So far, it’s my crowning achievement, and it’ll stay that way until I pull off a bigger one.”

“Like your eerily fucking second?” Fíli teased.

“Yah, like that,” I grinned.

“When you pull that off, you have to tell me how you got the pie filling out of the pie.”

“No, I don’t,” I teased. “I might want to try it again sometime.”

“You’re such an arse.”

“You’re a bigger one.”

“If I’m such an arse, then tell me how we can get to Ankulaz, doh kro.”

Despite Fíli’s laughing words, their intent was serious, so I rolled them around in my head for a bit. “Hmm. First, we have to get to him when he’s not anywhere near Grun. That means on the grass.”

“That means we have to get him away from Kheluz.”

“Maybe not. He knows more about herding and hunting than we do, so now that Kheluz has trained him in Kahgli’s ways, he lets him run farther afield. Like Drekkani and Arkhanneh are starting to do with us.”

Fíli grunted agreement. “It’d still be wise if one of us distracts Kheluz while the other talks to Ankulaz. That means we have to be on the grass, too, which means we’ve got to get away from Drekkani and Arkhanneh. Ugh, this is too complicated.”

I grinned. “Yah, if you do it your way, it’s too complicated. The trick will be to get us both on the grass when we’re not expected to be on the grass.”

“How do you expect to manage that?” Fíli gave me a scathing, skeptical look.

“It wouldn’t be so hard if we both had a rest morn at the same time. Then we just...go.”

“What are the chances they’ll let us both have a rest day at the same time, and then blithely let us ride off together across the grass?”

I snorted. “ _Skator_ , brother. You’ve behaved yourself for far too long out here, haven’t you, because you’ve lost all sense of mischief. We can trade with someone or another to have our rest morns at the same time, can’t we? And then I’ll get one of the horses from Merruli because he knows I can handle them, and you’ll casually wander down to the river, and once you’re out of casual sight, I’ll take you aback the horse. Then we ride double until we spot Ankulaz. I slip off to talk to Ankulaz, you ride on to distract Kheluz, and there we are.”

“How will I know when to come get you?” Fíli demanded.

“You’ll see Ankulaz mount his pony and ride on. Once he’s gone a little ways, you finish with Kheluz and circle around to get me. I’ll whistle so you know where I am.”

“Then we head back to camp, I slip off by the river, and you take the horse back to Merruli,” Fíli mused.

“Exactly!” I grinned. “What could go wrong?”

“A thousand things,” Fíli smirked. “But nothing ventured, nothing gained. It’s better than hoping we come upon Ankulaz alone by chance.”

“Aye.”

Fíli considered. “A little sleuthing beforehand wouldn’t hurt, either. I wonder if Kheluz would tell me anything about Ankulaz.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Like whether he’s keeping apart out of spite or pride, or if he’s downhearted,” Fíli shrugged.

“Aye, that’d be useful,” I conceded. “If he’s just being a snot, then maybe we go no further with this. But if he’s downhearted, off we go.”

Fíli drew up Orrud with a grimace. “I just thought of something.”

“What?”

“You know no one goes on the grass alone. How’re you going to convince Merruli to let you go off with one of the clan’s precious horses alone?”

Fíli was right, but in an instant I had the answer. The tents were just ahead of us, so I drew up beside him so that we wouldn’t be overheard. “I’ll get Barkhuzi to go with me. He’s worried sick about Klyn, so he’d jump at the chance to do something that might help. That’d keep Kheluz from looking suspicious about why you’re out on the grass alone, too. So we need to talk to Khuzi as soon as possible.”

“What are the chances that three of us will have a rest morn together, and at the same time when Ankulaz has morn on the grass?” Fíli pondered.

“We’ll manage it. Rest morn means night duty, and there’s more than one Dwarf who’d appreciate a chance to come in off the grass early rather than go out late.”

“Done,” Fíli nodded, and held out his hand to me. I slapped it, and so our plan was set. We’d see what we could winkle out of Kheluz, and whether Barkhuzi was willing to help.

We had a busy few days ahead of us.

 

* * *

 

Kíli and I took Orrud and Kulomar back to Merruli, saw to the horses, and cleaned our tack. We lingered long enough to tell the pony master how our lesson with the horses had gone, then returned our wolf pelts, bow rigs, and blades to our tent. Once unburdened, we went straight to the outdoor kitchen. Kíli would soon be out on the grass to do his turn, and he needed to shovel down enough food to hold him through the night. I was just as hungry, so didn’t stint, either. We retreated away from the kitchen enough to settle all the dogs we’d collected around us, so they’d calm before we fed them. We took turns making trips back to the pots for more food so that one of us stayed with the dogs to keep them resting. It was a wonder to see how obedient the dogs were – not a one begged for a tidbit from our bowls. Of course that changed when Kíli had finally eaten enough and we took the flight for their meat – they couldn’t be more ravenous, and they showed it by bouncing up and down, and poking us terribly as if to shove us towards their bowls. How Vikken laughed at us trying to sort out a dozen dogs, all eager for their rations! Most of the unattached dogs with us were young, and not completely trained yet, so they didn’t stay still for more than a few seconds at a time. Finally, Kíli put his arms akimbo in exasperation.

“All right, you lot!” he barked. “Taalmakk, Alberch, Shosti! You know how to lie down, and you know how to listen to Fíli, too! The faster you behave, the sooner you eat!”

Mhornar ventured a rare bark, and Rinnala nipped at a couple of the young dogs to reinforce my brother’s plea, and so eventually they settled. Vikken had chopped meat ready for us, so we took two bowls apiece. Kíli called to four of the youngest dogs whose control wasn’t so good yet, just to stop them from agitating the rest of the flight. Despite the protest that raised with the remaining eight, we kept order, and made sure the young dogs didn’t bolt their food. On we went to the next four, and when they were done, we rewarded the patient Mhornar, Alabrin, Rinnala, and Azrilmaag. As soon as they were done, we got the dogs settled away from the meat, so they would rest properly while they digested their meal.

“Oi, Fíli and Kíli,” Vikken came out to squat beside us, reaching out a weathered hand to caress Mhornar’s ears. “I didn’t think you’d settle so many, but you did well, both of you.”

We offered the dog master pleased thanks and bobs of the head, but Kíli’s grin was so wide that his head should’ve split open. Yes, my envy tried to rear its unwelcome head again because settling the dogs had been more Kíli’s doing than mine, but it was only the automatic flush of a competitive Dwarf’s nature, and slight. I was glad to take Vikken’s praise for my part, and proud that Kíli’s contribution had been acknowledged.

“There will come days when we’re hard pressed to cover everything well,” Vikken continued. “It’s good to know that I can call on two more to help with the dogs if need be.”

Kíli’s gleeful grin spread even wider. I smothered a snicker – honestly, how did he keep his delight from bursting him apart?

“I’d love that,” Kíli blurted, still grinning from ear to ear. “That wouldn’t be the least bit like a chore. Not at all!”

A slight figure behind Vikken stilled – Klyn, just coming to take his turn with the dogs. Valar, his expression looked resentful. Had he heard what Vikken had said, and Kíli’s reply? He must have, given the intensity of his expression.

Was that what I looked like when envy took hold of me?

I took another, longer look, and no, that wasn’t what I looked like, because the larger part of Klyn’s expression wasn’t resentment or envy – it was fear.

Why was Klyn so afraid? As fast as Kíli had taken to the dogs, and they to him, he still had much to learn about them, and Kíli would be the first to say so. Surely Klyn didn’t fear that Kíli would supplant him to help Vikken with the dogs, did he?

Klyn hadn’t been himself since Derfrulia’s search of the hunting party’s packs. For all that he’d stayed among folk, he’d remained frightened, defensive, unsettled. In that frame of mind, yes, he certainly might worry about Kíli replacing him, or even me. I squirreled that away as Vikken took his leave of us, and left us to sit with the dogs as they settled their meal. I said nothing to Kíli until we deemed the dogs sufficiently rested, and got up to be on our way. Arkhanneh approached when she saw us urge the unattached dogs to stay with Vikken and Klyn, and head towards the family tent with just Rinnala, Mhornar, and Alabrin in tow.

“’T is time for us to be out on the grass, Kíli,” Arkhanneh called.

“I’ll be but a moment!” my brother promised, waving, and hurried towards the family tent to grab his bow rig. When he stopped at the door to let Rinnala and me precede him inside, I put a hand on his shoulder and leaned close to tell him about Klyn.

Kíli’s eyes grew large. “Oh, Valar, Fíl. I don’t – why would he – is he... I mean, why would he be worried about me?”

“I’d hazard that he’s worried that Vikken thinks that you’re better with the dogs than he is.”

Kíli’ eyes widened again, but with incredulity. His expression was as flummoxed as I’d ever seen it before. “That’s stupid. He knows mountains more than I do.”

“Of course he does. But something about what Vikken said scared him. Maybe he thinks Vikken will replace him with either of us. Maybe he thinks Kahgli won’t have a need for him then, and will drive him out.”

“You’re mad,” Kíli gaped at me. “That’s mad.”

“Of course it is.”

“So what should we do?”

My shrug was as helpless as Kíli’s expression. “I’ve no idea.”

Grimacing, my brother squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hands over them as if his head ached. “ _Skator kurvanog_ , why is everything such a complicated scramble? We can’t figure out what to do about one thing before another thing happens!”

“That’s no lie. You go do your turn on the grass, Kíl. I’ll do my best to speak to Kheluz and Barkhuzi.”

“All right.” A long moment passed before Kíli took his hands off his eyes. He exhaled in exasperation, then gave me a long, grim look. “If we find out that Grun’s behind all this, Fíli, I swear on the cairn of every Durin forebear that I’ll punch that _gajarpan_ _vaudhomuurz kurvanog_ until his nose sticks out the back of his head!”

“I with you, brother,” I averred with a slap on Kíli’s shoulder, then held out my hand for him to slap. He did so with such force that my hand stung, but it was fitting. I felt no less exasperation about Grun than my brother did.

Kíli ducked inside to grab his bow rig and blades, then waved to me as he trotted off to catch up to Arkhanneh. I saw them off to the grass with their dogs, glad that my brother had the eve’s duty; the sun was more than warm, and Kíli would be just as warm with his dark hair. It was growing, I was happy to see. Arkhanneh had her hair wrapped out of the way with one of the common head cloths, which gave me an idea. Kíli and I hadn’t had a chance to learn how to wrap such a thing yet. That gave me a good reason to talk to Barkhuzi, if he were in camp, or perhaps Kheluz...

I’d better find someone to talk to, or something to fill my time, because Grun was in camp, and his eye was on me. I wanted to talk to him no more than Kíli did, so I scanned the camp quickly. Valar, please let Barkhuzi be with the ponies! Ah, yes! There he was, just going into the briar enclosure with a handful of halter ropes. I beckoned to Rinnala, and she gladly pranced ahead of me to give Neyshath, Barkhuzi’s dog, a whuff in greeting. As the two dogs nosed each other, I lifted a hand to greet Barkhuzi.

“Fíli!” Barkhuzi grinned, pausing at the entrance to the enclosure.

“Khuzi,” I grinned back. “What’re you up to this afternoon?”

“Checking the pack ponies’ shoes,” he replied.

“Would you like a helper?” I asked.

“I certainly would,” the red-haired Dwarf averred, then winked at me. “Question is, why to you offer? You were out on the grass all morn, and then you schooled Orrud, and then you saw to a lot of the dogs. You’ve earned your rest.”

“I’m always happy to learn something new, and to help a friend,” I shrugged, following him into the enclosure. “But I do admit to another motive. Two, if I’m honest.”

“Two! Mahal, Fíl. They must be dire, if you’re willing to help me shoe a lot of restive pack ponies,” Barkhuzi teased as he tugged on his mustaches.

I snickered. “Nothing dire, at least for the first one.”

“Come on, then,” Barkhuzi beckoned, handing me a few of the halter ropes. “What is it?”

I took the ropes, snared the pony he pointed me to, and led him back to Barkhuzi. “The sun’s getting warmer every day, and I want to learn how to wrap a head cloth like you do. Then I can show Kíli. His black hair makes more of the sun than my blond does, but we’d both be more comfortable with a head cloth.”

“Of course! It’s not hard, though it takes a knack to get the last end stuck in. And you’re right about a cloth making life a bit more comfortable. Nothing keeps you cool in the deepest part of the summer, but at least you can keep the sun from burning your scalp. That’s a right pain. I burn fast. It’s as if red hair means you’re already on fire, and the sun doesn’t have to do much to add to it!”

“Blond isn’t much better,” I admitted. “Kíli doesn’t burn fast, but Valar, he gets hot fast. It’s like the sun thinks his black hair means he’s cold, and works extra fast to warm him up!”

Laughing, Barkhuzi bent to take up the pony’s first hoof. “The sun’s got her ways to give us all a bit more of what we don’t need, she does. So once we check the shoes, I’ll show you the head cloth. First, this lad. He’s the worst one about having his hooves checked, so better we see to him first. Keep a tight grip on his halter, Fíl.”

I looped the long end of the pony’s halter rope around one of the posts set at intervals within the enclosure. “All right, Khuzi. I’ve anchored his halter rope.”

“Good. Don’t let go!” Barkhuzi made a comical face at me before he set to.

Given that this pony was so adamant about things, I didn’t get to see much of what Barkhuzi did, but the next pony was gentle, and so Barkhuzi explained how he checked that the shoe nails weren’t loose, and that the hooves hadn’t split. He even had me do a few of the checks with him watching, just so I knew the right way to do it. We found a couple of loose shoes, and one shoe that was gone completely, so while Barkhuzi put on a new shoe, he had time to explain why some of the ponies wore shoes and the rest didn’t.

I hadn’t considered the ramifications before now, but while meat was readily available just by walking outside our tents, flour, beans, medicines, herbs, and other staples and supplies weren’t. To remedy that, Clan Kahgli took a caravan back to their Blue Mountain settlement a few times each year to replenish supplies. The biggest caravan was in mid fall and corresponded with the fall festival, so ponies and horses bound for the sales also made the trip; the pack ponies making the return trip were laden with supplies to stockpile against the coming winter. At least one caravan made the trip each spring and summer, as well. The spring one, which carried the goats’ winter fleeces and hair to the settlement crafters, would leave shortly, before the summer heat peaked. The summer one, if needed, waited for the much-storied plague of blood flies to pass before venturing west.

All of the pack ponies that made up the caravans were shod, because the land grew steadily stonier the closer one came to the Blue Mountains. I knew the truth of that – Kíli and I turned the soil in Maamr’s garden each spring. Year after year, we dug up more rocks than seemed possible, some of them quite large. All of Maamr’s planting borders were edged with those stones. The house and chicken coop had solid stone foundations, and both the chimneys were stone, too. We used to tease Maamr that her best crops were little mountains, which was so true that even she laughed at the joke.

“That’s why our folk are the best stone masons,” she’d say. “Lots of practice, because the mountains bless even our gardens with their riches!”

Given how little the firedrake had left us when he claimed Erebor, it was no wonder we made much of the stones in our fields.

With two of us working, we finished the ponies’ shoes in a couple of hours. It was hot work, so Barkhuzi and I gathered water skins from our tents to carry down to the river. We had a good splash and scrub, then Barkhuzi showed me the trick of how to wrap a head cloth.

“Now, that’s fine!” Barkhuzi gave me an approving nod when I’d mastered the folds myself. “Make sure you show Kíli the trick to tuck in the last end, so if he pulls it out to cover his face against the wind, the whole thing doesn’t come unraveled.”

“I will,” I assured my friend. “It’ll feel good to get all the hair off my neck.”

“So that’s motive number one. What’s the second one?”

We were well away from anyone else, so I wasted no time in telling Barkhuzi everything Kíli and I had considered about Grun and Klyn, without holding back. I even told him about Kíli’s conversation with Cyth, and her less-than-sympathetic reaction. My sharp-eyed friend listened intently through the whole recitation, nodding occasionally but saying little.

“You both have reasoned this out well,” he said when I was done. “And the idea to get to Ankulaz is a good one. It’s wise to be so circumspect.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Valar, Khuzi. I half expected you to be as sharp about Ankulaz as Cyth.”

Barkhuzi’s smile was perverse. “I’m the son of the matriarch’s youngest son. Things ran a bit looser for us both, and I fostered with Clan Distin for the leatherwork, so I’ve seen other folk. If Cyth did, ‘t was long ago and maybe she’s forgotten, but mostly, it’s what you thought – she’s told herself whatever story about the Urghuls for twenty-five years until it’s nothing but sacred lore. I hadn’t heard Kahgli’s version of the tale before, but what Distin said about it wasn’t nearly so virulent. And seeing Ankulaz when he and Grun fought... I agree with Kíli. No one that drunk is fit to do anything after except drown in the gutter, or sleep under the taproom table.”

“So you’re with us?”

“I am,” my friend nodded firmly. “To make sense of an old tale, if we can. But if we can lighten the load on Klyn’s shoulders...” Barkhuzi’s grimace was pained.

“Have you been able to get him to say anything?”

Barkhuzi’s shake of the head was the most disconsolate I’d seen from him. “Not one word. Whatever it is scares him more than Melkor, and it’s all but sewn his lips together.”

“Kíli and I wondered if it might be something about Klyn’s past, something he doesn’t want Kahgli to know.”

“I’ve wondered the same thing,” my friend nodded slowly. “He joined us three years ago, almost four now, during the fall festival. Vikken’s second was old, and had decided to stay in the settlement rather than risk another deadly cold winter on the grass, so we were short with the dogs, given that the clan was so busy with the horses and ponies for sale. Klyn was a ragged thing, he was, and didn’t look suited to the grass, but the dogs took to him in an instant, which persuaded Vikken to take him on. He knew herding dogs well enough, and he was quick to learn the wolfhounds’ ways, and when Kulazhath took to him, that sealed his place with Kahgli. The wolfhounds know folk better than folk know folk.”

“He doesn’t know his original clan?”

“No. He’d wandered doing odd jobs here and there for some years before he came to Kahgli. I wondered if he wandered here and there looking for any word of his folk, and kept moving when he didn’t.”

“So... maybe he’s given up the search?”

A fond smile crossed Barkhuzi’s lips. “I like to think that he gave it up when he and I grew to be friends.”

“I bet he did,” I agreed with a smile.

“We suit each other well... eh, at least we did before this happened.” My friend’s face turned regretful and worried. “Mahal, I hope we can find something that’ll loosen his lips. Even better, if we can find out what’s scared him so shitless, we can pull it out by its roots.”

“Agreed.”

The red-haired Dwarf turned his sharp gaze on me, and his eyes narrowed. “I want to know what scared Klyn so much about that search through our things, and I don’t care what Cyth made you promise. In and around what Kíli didn’t say, someone slipped a knife into your pack, yes? Was it one of those dodgy gaming knives, trying to get you outcast?”

I swallowed. I’d given Cyth my word, but... if anyone needed to know about that gaming knife, it was Barkhuzi. I thought about Kíli’s talent for obeying a prohibition exactly as stated, and only exactly as stated, and ventured to follow his example.

“I can’t say anything about the search, Khuzi, but... do you know that Kíli had never seen a gaming knife before Grun and Ankulaz pulled them out at the hunter trials?”

Barkhuzi nodded, understanding everything. “Aye, I’d seen them in taverns and inns a few times, and Cyth can’t say I haven’t, or that you told me about any one in particular.”

“Of course I didn’t,” I agreed, touching my finger to the side of my nose.

Barkhuzi mirrored my gesture, and shared a conspiratorial smile.

“So what I have to do next is talk to Kheluz, see if he can give me a read of Ankulaz’s mood, and if he’s truly bullied, or just being a snot. If he is, then I have to find out when Ankulaz will be on the morn grass, so we can get you, me, and Kíli a rest morn at the same time.”

“I can help you with both of those,” Barkhuzi mused. “It might be better if I see what Kheluz says rather than you. And since Taad helps to set the duties... he’s a bit more open-minded than Ferrin, and he’s no happier about Klyn than I am. So I can probably get him to set what we need without asking too many questions about why.”

“That’d be perfect, Khuzi. And... please keep the bit about Kíli being bullied to yourself. He’s not so downhearted now, but he still considered what he tried to do to be a weakness that shames him, no matter what I tell him to the contrary. He doesn’t need all of Kahgli knowing about it.”

“Course,” my friend held out his hand for me to slap, which I did. “I’d figured out most of the story myself, though for the life of me I don’t understand why villains singled him out so badly. He’s a rare Dwarf, and what does lack of a full beard do to spoil that?”

“I don’t know, Khuzi.” I hung my head. “I’m ashamed of my folk for being so cruel. But he’s happy here, and does well, and if he never wants to leave, I’ll see it done, no matter anything else.”

“He’d be welcome, and so would you. Maybe being Durin’s Heir makes your choices not your own, but if either or both of you want to stay on the grass, Kahgli will welcome you.”

“That’s tempting,” I admitted. “It’d be a relief, to be honest. Durin’s poor, and the weight of the name.... Besides, even if we were rich, it’d make no difference to the firedrake in Erebor.”

“Not one bit,” Barkhuzi agreed.

The sky had darkened as we’d talked, and the sun had sunk low towards the horizon. Barkhuzi and I were dry from our splashing, so we pulled our clothes back on much refreshed. We filled our water skins, called to Rinnala and Neyshath, and turned back towards the tents.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili's efforts to learn more about what happened to Helglor are stopped flat in their traces, and muddy ponies are a worrisome omen. Camp gossip reveals another worrisome omen, but this one makes the brothers' plans to talk to Ankulaz more urgent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Eclipse Day, everyone!

Valar, it was a relief to saddle and bridle my pony – my favorite Lissa – and trot beside Arkhanneh out onto the grass. The day had been much too full of serious words already, so it was a relief to savor something of the other senses for a while. Overhead, frothy clouds dotted the wide sky, which likely meant rain tomorrow. They raced quickly from the northwest to the southeast, almost perpendicular to the rises that ran past the flat space the ponies loved so much. The wind that drove them was more or less steady, though the occasional gust ruffling the grass further signaled that the next morn might be a damp one. The scent of dust and grass that surrounded us were occasionally punctuated with pony hair and dung, and wove a comfortable counterpoint with the sounds of buzzing insects, whuffing pony snorts, and swishing tails.

From such soft sounds and sights, an outsider might think that the grass was a tranquil, gentle place, but it was neither. Pony fillies and colts dashed this way and that, sometimes out of sheer exuberance, and sometimes to vie in some incomprehensible pony spat. Gregarious ground squirrels provided a lot of the ruckus; the chubby creatures were always running back and forth to see what one of them had gotten into. The stir was even more pronounced than usual, for Arkhanneh led us off the flat to oversee a bit of the goats’ favorite territory – the western side of the rolling ridges, where their preferred forage, tough, thorny scrub, flourished. Valar, the beasts were never quiet, constantly calling to each other in harsh voices. Unlike the ground squirrels, which were happy creatures that thrived on a constant communal stir of visits, Kahgli’s wool goats seemed to warn each other off with their racket, or maybe they continued a longstanding argument. Whether my whimsy was a good reflection of a goat’s mood or not, it gave me something to snicker about.

“What’s funny, Kíli?” Arkhanneh looked aside at me.

“The goats,” I waved my hand at the nearest cluster of the creatures. “It sounds like they like to argue.”

“Fit goats for a Dwarvish clan, yah?” the old dam gave me a crooked smile.

I snickered again. “Yah. The council chambers in Thorin’s Halls often sound as if goats have taken up residence.”

“You’ve been in such places many times, then,” the dam nodded.

“Oh and oh, I’m not nearly old enough for anyone to let me venture inside there for any reason,” I assured her, grinning. “But I’ve heard what comes out of the windows often enough. I think some of them within consider arguing a sport well worth practicing. It’s a right racket.”

Arkhanneh chuckled. “Perhaps it’s a feature of towns, then? Out on the grass, we might argue as much as the goats, but not so loudly.”

“Maybe so,” I nodded. “I haven’t been in any towns other than Thorin’s Halls, and I haven’t been on the grass long enough to hear a lot of arguments. The loudest I’ve heard out here was when Derfrulia dressed down the Urghul patriarch, that Tobazel. I can’t imagine that his clan is quiet about anything.”

Arkhanneh’s jaw clenched. “Aye, they’re a sullen lot, and quick to take offense. No clan likes dealings with them.”

I pricked up my ears. Arkhanneh was of an age that she would’ve been well along in her majority when Yanna’s mother had died. Did she know something of the tale? And could I tease it out without making a fool out of myself?

“Are all of them like that? Or just that Tobazel?” I ventured.

“Does it matter?” Arkhanneh countered. “He’s the one who speaks for the rest, and a worse lot of tripe never came from the mouth of anyone else.”

I didn’t know what to say about that, but before I could think of anything, the old dam shrugged.

“Eh, maybe a few aren’t so brazen,” she allowed with reluctance, or maybe she was dubious. “That Kazunki, maybe.”

Greatly daring, I said, “Ankulaz... doesn’t speak much at all. So... maybe he’s not so bad, either?”

The dam turned a hard eye on me, all but spitting. “‘T isn’t courtesy that holds his tongue, Kíli – it’s guilt. He was there when our Helglor died, and no one can say different. He doesn’t just _know_ what happened – he _had a hand_ in it. The only thing that saves him from receiving the same from Kahgli is our regard for Derfrulia. But if that wavers one whit...”

The dam’s fierce, ugly glare sent a cold chill over my skin. I’m sure my expression mirrored my dismay – Valar, please let her think it was just my youth in the face of her ire that chilled me, and not the shock of feeling such naked hate from one who had mentored me so well. Arkhanneh had nurtured me as one of her own, unstinting with her knowledge and wisdom so that I stayed safe on the grass. How did such a smart, caring dam carry such conviction and loathing in the same body?

“So you were there? You saw what he did?” I asked breathily, forcing my expression into eager awe rather than revulsion.

“No one was there but the murderer, but we know who that was – Ankulaz and his vermin father,” Arkhanneh avowed. “We know, and nothing that slinking second of his says can mask it. Mark my words, Kíli. Urghul’s heir killed Kahgli’s heir. If we ever find proof, we won’t wait for any Dwarvish council to see justice done.”

So fierce was the dam’s assertion that I fell silent. There were no reasoned nuggets to find about Helglor’s death here.

Whether Ankulaz had had anything to do with Helglor’s death or not, he lived on the knife’s edge of Derfrulia’s forbearance. If he’d taken a hand in her death, maybe he deserved his precarious position. If he hadn’t...

I grimaced, and urged Lissa after Arkhanneh.

All through the night’s watch, I wondered what the dam had meant about Grun.

 

* * *

 

The next several days passed without much progress on our plan to catch Ankulaz on the grass. That was troubling enough on its own, but Kíli’s tale of Arkhanneh’s antipathy towards the Urghul heir made our lack of progress seem even direr. Barkhuzi’s gleanings from Kheluz had had a strong sense of the same virulence, but also an admission that the Urghul heir did all that was asked of him competently, without complaint... but without animation, either. He seemed to drift like a ship without an anchor, and remained in deep mourning for his kinsman. Was this a bullied Dwarf, as well? I couldn’t tell.

Kíli, however, was not so unsure. It wasn’t something he could put into words, or perhaps he couldn’t find adequate words. I might be Durin’s heir, and Kíli my second, but in this, I bowed to him. We would keep on, until Ankulaz himself gave us reason to stop.

Now that Barkhuzi was part of our plan, he passed us more tidbits about Kahgli’s mood. I watched and listened, too, and there was definitely an undercurrent of something that hadn’t been there a day or so ago. It was telling that Kíli slipped more and more behind his old neutral expression that he’d presented to the bullies, even though he still seemed to be considered with the same smiling appreciation. When I asked him about it one morn after we’d fed and settled our dogs, his eyes flitted from side to side, and he shook his head slightly, as if he were wary of something he couldn’t quite identify.

“I don’t know, Fíli. There’s something. I think it’s directed at you. Just... watch your step for a bit. And don’t even look at a maid. Especially Yanna.”

That brought my eyebrows up. “Yanna? That’s mad.”

“So?” Kíli murmured back. “No one has to tell the truth when he starts a rumor. It just has to sound plausible. Believe me, I know.”

My expression must’ve been gaping, because Kíli’s jaw got tight. “Maybe you’ve forgotten the one about me being an Elf’s get, but I haven’t."

A lot of bullies had used that rumor as reason to ambush my brother time and again, which gave his assertion about the power of rumors solid credibility. “What rumor would someone tell about me out here?”

The fond adoration in Kíli’s eyes as he stroked Mhornar’s back turned to pure, scathing disgust. “ _Skator kurvanog,_ Fíli – you can’t be such a fucking doh kro! _She’s_ the heir of Kahgli, isn’t she? _You’re_ the heir of Durin, aren’t you? Even a bairn younger than I am doesn’t need Master Balin to work that one out!”

Oh, Valar – someone must’ve seen Yanna and me out on the grass for those few brief seconds, and the story had grown from a quick kiss into more. Oh and oh and oh...

“Where are you going?” Kíli demanded, when I looked towards the family tent and made to get up. When he followed my gaze, he grabbed my arm to keep me seated beside him. “She’s not there. She went on the grass an hour ago.”

“Somebody’s got to warn her.”

“Somebody will, but it can’t be you, brother. It can’t.” He tightened his grip on my arm before I could say anything. “Fíli. Please. It can’t be you.”

“Who, then?” I demanded.

He exhaled, but dragged me to my feet and strode towards the tent that was home to Barkhuzi and Klyn. He stuck his head in quickly, came back out, and urged me after him with a look. Outside of the brush enclosure, Barkhuzi saddled one of the tall horses. Straight as a bird on the wing Kíli went right to him, and picked up one of the horse’s hooves as if he were cleaning it.

“The clan’s rumbling about Fíli and Yanna,” my brother said straight out, but hardly above a whisper.

“Aye,” our friend murmured in reply as he tightened the horse’s girth. “I’ve heard it, too.”

“Heard what?” I demanded.

Kíli bit his lip, and Barkhuzi muttered something vaguely Orcish under his breath. “Naught but tripe, how you’ll take Yanna off the grass with you when your contract is up next year.”

“WHAT?” I yelped, too shocked to curse. When both Kíli and Barkhuzi hushed me, I clapped my hands over my mouth until I could swallow my outrage.

“There’s more. The tale claims that the two of you dabbled in the grass and left the herd unguarded for at least an hour.”

“B-b-but that’s worse than tripe – that’s pure fucking shit!”

“Course it is,” both brother and friend agreed.

“Does Yanna know?” I squeaked.

“She will.” Barkhuzi adjusted the stirrups. “As soon as I can get out on the grass.”

“Let me go,” Kíli urged.

“You know no one goes out on the grass alone.” Barkhuzi put his hands on his hips to regard Kíli.

“You were going alone,” Kíli refuted.

“That’s different.”

“Maybe,” Kíli allowed. “But I’m different, too.”

“It’s not the same.”

“No, it’s not,” Kíli allowed again, then pointed his chin at me. “Because I won’t be alone.”

“You can’t take Fíli with you!”

“Not him. Them.”

He pointed his chin at me again, but if he didn’t mean me, whom did he mean? I turned around to see who was behind me –

Mhornar, Alabrin, and at least a dozen dogs looked quizzically at me, then at Kíli.

“Mahal, Kíl. There’s more of them after you every day,” Barkhuzi exhaled. “Aye, they’d keep you safe enough. But you still can’t go.”

“Why not?” Kíli implored.

Barkhuzi freed the reins of his horse from the tether pole. “Because folk would see you as a go-between, and that’d make things worse. Yanna and I are cousins, so no one thinks twice if they see me talk to her.”

“ _Dahaut_ ,” Kíli muttered, deflated. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“You’ll get your chance to sneak about with your flight soon enough.” Barkhuzi hauled himself up on the gelding. “Hope for tomorrow, aye?”

“Do you think so?” Kíli perked up.

“I do. Now, I shouldn’t be long. You’d both do me a courtesy if you see to the ponies. Check the ones that just came in off the grass, then let them graze. If I’m not back by then, then gather the ones for the next watch. Stay together. Work as hard as you usually do, and then some. And for the love of Mahal, Fíli, don’t so much as look at any of the maids.”

“Valar, you, too?” I protested, as Kíli gave me an I-told-you-so look. “I haven’t done anything!”

“Doesn’t matter.” Barkhuzi mounted his horse, then tapped his temple. “The only encouragement such tales need to grow is inside some folks’ heads. Don’t add to it.”

Without fanfare, he pointed the horse towards the river, spoke to Neyshath, and was gone. We watched for a few moments, but no one seemed to notice him riding straight northeast with Neyshath keeping pace beside the horse, so it was time for my brother and me to make sure things stayed that way. We let ourselves into the ponies’ briar enclosure, and set to the checks as we’d been taught. We found little to worry us, as the unwritten rule was that hunters or herders coming in from the grass saw to their mounts before tending dogs or Dwarves. Barkhuzi wasn’t back when we finished with hooves and mouths and hides, so we went out with a couple of ponies to gather enough mounts for the hunters and herders who’d need them next. We had plenty to keep us busy once we gathered the first dozen – most were well spattered with mud, and three of them had seen fit to find a wallow during the night and looked like fat, hairy mud balls. We left those until last, and labored on the ones that weren’t so foul. Even so, we were well exercised to brush all the dried mud off legs and flanks, and dig hooves free of the caked clods. Barkhuzi still wasn’t back when we got that lot done, so Kíli and I led the three mud balls down to the river to soak the worst of the mess off. We stripped down to our skin – no point in fouling our clothes to match the ponies – and led the ponies belly deep into the water.

“Valar,” I muttered as I scrubbed. “I swear Khuzi left us with the ponies because he knew what they’d look like. By the time we’re done, I’ll need a scrub as badly as they do!”

“At least we’re stripped for it,” Kíli snickered from beside one of the other ponies, but softly. He snuck another look northeast, looking for our friend’s return. “The water feels good.”

“This one’s done.” I dragged an arm across my forehead to wipe away the spatters of mud and sweat, and moved to the third one. “Come on, dirt ball. Time to turn you back into a pony.”

As I set to the last of the three ponies, my previous charge saw fit to amble out of the water, and consider the muddy riverbank with a long eye.

“Oi, you _dagul kautar_ _shemator_ , you will not roll in the mud again right after I scrubbed you clean! Oi!”

I struggled out of the river and grabbed for the pony’s halter, but the pert maid dodged away with a snort, trotting downstream with mincing steps, almost as if she laughed at me. Kíli, of course, _was_ laughing, and he made no move to help me grab the pony, which of course took advantage of me to fold herself down on her knees and roll in the dirt with the most ecstatic pony grin.

“Oh and oh, you are such a fucking little bitch!” I threw up my hands in exasperation to see all my scrubbing undone. Kíli’s laughter grew entirely too gleeful, so I left the minx to kick water at my brother. “And you, you arse! You could’ve cut her off!”

“Sorry, brother,” Kíli giggled, clearly not sorry as he ducked the barrage I sent at him. He held up a halter rope in each hand. “I had to hold the other ponies. You didn’t want these two to join Kithi, did you?”

I kicked more water. “Valar, you are such a do kro!”

“I’m not the one with the clean pony rolling in the dirt,” Kíli countered, snickering as he kicked water back at me. “That makes you the do kro.”

Before long, both of us were kicking and splashing and hurling laughing epithets at each other as if we were the worst enemies. I tackled Kíli and sent us both floundering deeper into the river, which devolved into a lot of wrestling, shoving, and pushing amid the splashes. It felt good to drop the careful caution we’d adopted of late, and let off a little pressure. I sent Kíli under again, but he’d been in mid laugh, and came up choking so hard that I hurriedly pulled him up, and smacked his back until he’d cleared his lungs.

“All right?” I asked anxiously, still pounding his back.

“Aye,” Kíli croaked, and gave another hacking cough. “ _Dahaut_ , there are burrs in the river, and half of them just went down my throat!”

I stopped pounding. Out of habit, I scanned around us, but this close to the camp there were no wolves to come upon us. The three ponies, however, had lined up knee deep in the river to watch us with unimpressed eyes as we’d splashed. Kithi gave a shake, splattering the other two with dirt, and gave a distainful snort, which even I had to laugh at.

“You had to keep the other two from rolling in the dirt with Kithi, did you?” I demanded, glaring at Kíli. I pointed at the two ponies that still stood where my brother had left them. “You are such a do kro.”

Kíli shrugged, not the least chagrined. “ _You_ are, but we both will be if we can’t get three ponies cleaned up and back to the tents soon.”

We slogged out of the deeper water to clean up the ponies again. When we led them out of the water, one of us held the trio while the other dressed, just to make sure that Kithi didn’t undo our hard work a second time. Then we led them back to the briar enclosure. We no sooner got them back inside when Kithi wanted to roll in the dust, so we tied her lead rope to one of the tether poles with a few choice words. Barkhuzi slipped inside behind us, laughing.

“Kithi,” he grinned. “Led you on a merry chase, did she?”

“Fíli got the little minx completely washed, which pleased her so much that she escaped and rolled in the dirt,” Kíli explained unbridled glee. “She looked no better than when we started. She’s still not happy being so clean, because she’s still trying to roll in the dirt!”

Barkhuzi pulled at his mustache and frowned at the recalcitrant pony.

“Yah, she was a mess before we started,” I declaimed, “and now she wants to be a mess again. All of the ponies we rounded up were muddy, but Kithi and the other two beside her were completely covered. They looked like balls of bread dough!”

Barkhuzi hummed. “Oi, that’s not good.”

“It’s not?” I asked. “Why not?”

“Why do ponies roll in the dirt, or even better, the mud?” Barkhuzi gave his mustache another tug. “Aye, Kithi’s a minx, but you said she wasn’t the only one to coat herself. They do it during the day to protect themselves from sunburn, but they do it at night to keep off the flies.”

I met Kíli’s eyes, which were somber. “The blood flies?”

Barkhuzi pulled his mustaches yet again, clear sign that he was concerned. “It’s weeks too early for them, Fíli, but... it won’t be the first time they’ve come early. That’s sign of a long, hot summer.”

“Did you find Yanna?” Kíli asked softly.

Barkhuzi sobered. “Aye, I found her, and I told her, and then I watched her gape just as much as you, Fíl. Dabbling in the grass she might shrug off, but neglecting the herds... she was furious.”

Should I feel insulted that Yanna would have laughed off thoughts of dabbling with me? I wasn’t used to being dismissed like that, but when I forced myself to look at it, better she did than not. I was half her age, poor, a contract hunter, and bound by Clan Durin’s needs before my likes and dislikes. The more folk recalled those things, the better. As for neglecting the herds, I was outraged for her sake as well as my own. If I neglected my duties, I could be dismissed, which would bring dishonor to Clan Durin. If Yanna did, the ramifications might be worse – she might be viewed as unworthy to be Derfrulia’s heir.

“Did she believe you?” I asked.

“Oh, aye, and then some,” Barkhuzi nodded emphatically. “That’s why she’s so mad.”

“What’ll she do about it?” Kíli asked.

Barkhuzi shook his head. “I don’t know. Calm down first, I hope. She was incensed.”

“I am, too,” I assured my friend. “Does Derfrulia know?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, but can’t say. But if Cyth hasn’t heard, then she’s sick. She keeps a close ear on Kahgli’s mood.”

I grimaced. “Maybe you won’t be the only one Cyth’s mad at, Kíli. It might be trouble for both of us the next time we walk into the tent. But don’t worry. I’ll make sure she doesn’t take you to task for anything.”

“How’re you going to do that?” Kíli looked at me with blatant disbelief.

“I’ll think of something,” I assured him, though what came to mind made me wince anew. It didn’t matter. Whatever I had to do to keep Kíli on the grass and in Kahgli’s good graces, I would. My brother deserved that of me.

“Never mind that now,” Barkhuzi said. “Both of you are on night duty, so take your rest this afternoon so you’ll be fresh for a night on the grass.”

“I’ve got early duty, and may the Valar spit on me if I spend the afternoon in sight of the clan taking my ease,” I replied. “I'll stay right here, and help clean up the ponies for the next duty. If they all look like this lot did, you’ll need the help.”

“I’ll help, too,” Kíli said stoutly. We know where most of the near ones are, too, so we can show you.”

“If you want to, aye, I can use the help,” Barkhuzi shrugged. “Both of you, go eat. I had mine before I came here. I’ll finish this lot, and by the time you eat, I’ll be ready to go out for the next string.”

Kíli and I agreed, so we took our dogs with us – and all the young ones that had collected around Kíli – and stuffed our faces at the common kitchen. We didn’t linger, as the canvas shading the prep area near the cook fires sheltered several of the dams and their bairns, as well as one or two of the youngest maids. Cyth wasn’t there, so I had no reason to dawdle there while I ate. Kíli ate as if he were starving – nothing new there – but my appetite was distinctly off at the morn’s turn of events, no matter how hard I’d worked to clean obstreperous ponies. Still, I shoveled down my food as if nothing were wrong, then Kíli and I went out with Barkhuzi to round up another fifteen ponies. A few of them needed as much work as Kithi had, but the rest were well splashed. Given that we’d received no rain in a week, it was clear that the ponies had pursued their muddy state on purpose. By the time we finished, it was nearly time for supper, and Barkhuzi was eager to find his father and tell him of the portent. Before he ran to find Merruli, however, Barkhuzi pulled Kíli and me close.

“Rest morn tomorrow for all of us,” he whispered. “Ankulaz will be out on the grass, and Grun will be, too, but he’ll be well away from his heir. Thank Azril for that. So sleep hard when you get in from watch tonight.”

“We’ll be ready tomorrow,” I assured him, and Kíli’s single nod was both somber and firm. The three of us clasped hands before we parted. As Rinnala, Alabrin, and Mhornar had had a good, long rest while we’d cleaned the ponies, we took them right to Vikken for their meat. I was as ravenous as Kíli by the time we came to the communal fires, and between the two of us we carted a mountain of food away to settle with our dogs. For some minutes, the only sound was of us wolfing down stew, tearing antelope meat off ribs with our teeth, and moans of pleasure to finally ease our mighty hunger.

“Oh, Valar, I was nothing but an empty water skin,” I groaned, lying back on the grass to gnaw my last rib clean.

“I’m still hungry,” Kíli murmured, collecting the pile of ribs he’d stripped clean to toss into the bone basket, where they’d supplement the antelope and pony chips as fuel for the cooking fires. “Do you want anything more?”

“Enough that I’ll go with you,” I replied, so I collected my bones and followed Kíli back to the fire. Perhaps I was more alert to such things than I had been before this morn, because it did seem that a few folk looked at me more dubiously than they had before. Kíli noticed, too, because he was watchful as we made another round of the pots and racks, but he relaxed as one or two of the hunters called out a friendly greeting. We joined some of them who were also about to go out for the eve’s duty, and it was pleasant enough. The sun had sunk nearly to the horizon when we all rose to pitch our bones in the basket, then separate to collect our things for the night’s watch. I saw Kíli off with Arkhanneh before Drekkani found me, which suited me well.

Before I headed out on the grass, I wanted to talk to Derfrulia.

I marched myself to the family tent, steeling myself for what I was about to say. But I needn’t have bothered – the matriarch was not inside, and she wasn’t eating at the communal kitchen, and she wasn’t about the camp. Where was she?

Just as I was about to return to the pony enclosure, I found her. She, Cyth, and Yanna stood by the river’s edge, clearly in a deep, serious discussion.

Oh, Valar... all three of them?

There was nothing to be done for it.

I stiffened my resolve, and marched myself towards the heart of Kahgli.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Fíli defends his honor head on, Kíli takes a more circuitous path to confront the Urghul heir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> gajarpani kurvanog = fucking snakes (Orcish)

My jaw was set as I strode towards Cyth, Derfrulia, and Yanna by the riverbank. I kept my chin up, my stride firm, and my back straight, and refused to think about Rinnala trotting next to me just as resolutely, because that would break my heart. No matter how much I loved her, I owed so much to Kíli, but he wasn’t the only person who drove me towards the trio who were the heart and soul of Clan Kahgli. Yanna deserved this of me, too. No matter that the rumors floating about the camp were wrong and unfair – this was a matter of honor, Durin’s as well as Kahgli’s, and I’d see it through, no matter the personal sacrifice.

Cyth spotted me first, and her low murmur turned the other two to face me. Yanna looked furious. Valar, I hoped her glare wasn’t directed at me – I’d rather die than give her cause to look at me like that. Cyth’s expression was almost as thunderous. Derfrulia’s was grim, but it was impossible to know what that meant. I didn’t let my pace slacken, even in the face of such anger.

“This is a private conversation, Fíli,” Derfrulia rebuked when I was within earshot.

What I was about to say was hard enough without me shouting it to the skies, so I kept walking until they could hear my low words without strain. I offered my most formal Durin bow, my right hand over my heart and a deep bend at the waist, and followed that with Kahgli’s bow, my hands pressed palm to palm in front of my heart. When I straightened, I met Derfrulia’s gaze with steady eyes.

“With all respect, Lady, if your conversation is about a certain rumor that’s wafting between the tents, then I have something to add to it. When you agreed to have me here on the grass, you trusted me enough to give me your clan bead. I took that trust very seriously – I still do. I gave my word that I would not overstep my position with you as a very young contract hunter. Neither would I disrespect any of your maids, especially your heir, with unwanted attention. Most importantly, I would not risk the animals you entrusted to me to inattention or neglect for any reason. If I haven’t lived up to the trust you put in me, then I apologize, and I’ll do my best to improve. If my apology and my promise aren’t enough, and you require a more permanent solution to my failings, then I accept that, and will take my leave without protest. I would, however, beg you please not to extend my banishment to my brother. Kíli loves it here, and he’s served you well, and I would hope you would allow him to remain with you.

“That’s all I have to say. I thank you for your forbearance.”

I bowed again, this time even deeper, and turned before any of the trio saw me swallow down my distress. Rinnala nuzzled her narrow head under my hand, and I caressed her gently as I retreated.

“Are you so quick to offer to leave the grass?” Derfrulia sent after me. Her tone was neutral, but after all the intrigue that we’d endured during the past days, I wondered if her words hid a barb. I wasn’t experienced enough to know, so when I turned back to her, all I had to guide me was the truth of my feelings.

“I don’t do it lightly, no,” I shook my head. “Far from it. But when I hear mutterings about dereliction of duty and putting the herds at risk, that’s serious. It’s not in me to stand by and do nothing about it. Nor is it in me to let the mud splattering me foul anyone else.”

Valar forgive me, but I did dart a look at Yanna.

“So your idea of doing something about it is to offer to walk away?” Derfrulia countered.

Now that was galling. I grabbed my affront by it throat and tried to choke it into silence, and I tried to keep my voice calm and dignified... but I didn’t do the best job of either.

“I love it here as much as Kíli does, and I’d hate to leave. But... Valar, Lady, what else is a lad to do, if I may ask? You won’t let me punch the one who I think is the source of all of this, which I admit I’d much rather do than offering to leave the grass. But I don’t want Yanna’s standing to be in jeopardy, or Kíli’s, so...”

I smothered my wince in a shrug. It was an uncomfortable moment, knowing that Master Balin would roll his eyes for me blurting out such an admission. Rinnala nosed my hand again, this time with an indignant whuff, so I gave her a smile as I caressed her soft ears.

“And yes, I love you more than I want to punch anyone, too, Rinnala.”

Did Derfrulia resist a smile?

Maybe she did, but Cyth’s smile was overt, and she shook her head in amusement.

Yanna, though... under her lovely beard full of small bells, her cheeks were red.

“You heard him. Does that add weight to my tale?” Yanna demanded of her grandmother.

Cyth snorted as she waved a hand at her great-granddaughter. “Your tale didn’t need any weight, sweeting.”

“I still say we need to confront Grun,” Yanna argued. “You know he’s the one who started the rumor.”

“I do _not_ know that he was the one,” Derfrulia said, her jaw tightening. “Likely he is, but I can’t prove that. I won’t be pushed into a situation where Tobazel can call slight on Kahgli, or even worse, injustice. We’d never be rid of Urghul’s harrying then.”

“Grandmother, if we continue to say or do nothing, he’ll keep up his serpent’s words –”

“Yanna, enough,” Derfrulia said softly.

The maid fell silent, but she crossed her arms over her chest and hugged her ribs tightly, not happy with the censure. The queen of outspokenness, Cyth, was uncharacteristically silent, deferring to her daughter, but she looked no happier when she flicked a glance at me. Derfrulia’s eyes also met mine.

“I have no intention of sending you off the grass, Fíli,” Derfrulia said. To my surprise, she offered me a slight bow over her hands. “Please, go back to your duties.”

That was a clear dismissal, so I bowed back, then to both Cyth and Yanna, and turned away.

“Your concern does you honor. I thank thee.”

Surprised at Derfrulia’s parting words, I looked back, offered another bow, and continued on my way with Rinnala close beside me.

When I got closer to the tents, I looked back at the trio. The conversation I’d interrupted had resumed, so they hadn’t reached a conclusion. I found Drekkani, and headed out onto the grass to oversee the ponies, horses, and goats for another night.

Had my words changed anything? It was impossible to know.

 

* * *

 

Little happened during the night to disturb the herds, other than a brief incursion of wolves that Arkhanneh and I made short work of. Despite my best efforts, several of the youngest dogs had trailed behind me, but they were the reason why the wolves’ incursion was such a minor moment. With eight angry wolfhounds on the attack, the two wolves didn’t stand a chance, even to retreat. They were surrounded and dispatched almost before my mentor and I could race to the scene, and torn to shreds past recognition shortly thereafter. We left the remains for the insects and small scavengers, and moved on.

It was not easy to move on from my thoughts. No amount of the soft singing that the ponies liked so much would soothe my worries for my brother. The rumors that tried to darken Fíli’s firm reputation were well targeted, casting his natural friendliness and courtesy as ploys to seduce the maids. Dwarves weren’t like some folk to care about dalliances between lads and lasses. But to cast that as a blatant ploy to steal a clan’s heir was serious. Because Kahgli was a matriarchal clan, and Durin was more patriarchal, it smacked of one clan striving to change another, and not for the better. I might not want anything to do with the business of lineages and alliances and the... physical aspects needed to perpetuate both, but I understood them to be the bigger specter looming behind whatever Yanna and Fíli had or had not done.

Valar, for a side of mutton anyone would want to give Grun a good pounding. But that’d make him the injured party, and only reinforce his position. Better to attack this problem subtly and indirectly.

Step One was to get to Ankulaz, and see whether I could undermine Grun’s mischief at the root. That would take patience, but years of evading dunderheads had made me so. It was Fíli I was more concerned about. He was much like Uncle, who was patient but only for so long before he hit hard, and then bore his grudge for a very long time. Fíli was more approachable and understanding, and he was an easier Dwarf to like than Uncle by far. But he wasn’t much more patient, especially when his honor was at stake.

I spent the night worrying about whether he’d keep his counsel until he, Barkhuzi, and I could get to Ankulaz. Klyn was part of my worry, as well – it was painful to see him and Barkhuzi so estranged. Klyn’s secret must be dire, if he risked losing his mate by keeping such a death grip on his tongue.

The night came and went, Arkhanneh and I had no other disturbances past the one, and we came back to the tents not long before the sun would rise. I’d hoped we’d return earlier, so I’d have a chance to sleep before we ventured after Ankulaz, but given how uneventful the night was, it was considered easy duty, and so we’d stayed out. It wasn’t the first time I’d gone without enough sleep, so I’d manage. I cared for my pony, saw Mhornar and Alabrin and the other six dogs fed, groomed and rested, and stuffed myself full while the dogs rested. Then I crawled onto my cot beside my sleeping brother and grabbed for sleep with both hands –

Hands shook me awake. _Dahaut_ – hadn’t I just laid my head down? I pried my eyes open to meet Fíli’s. He looked just as ragged as I felt.

“Kíl,” he hissed. “Hunt’s on.”

That meant that Ankulaz was out on the grass, and we were about to go after him. I struggled to sit up, fumble into my clothes, and follow Fíli to the necessary, then to Vikken’s to give Mhornar, Alabrin, and Rinnala a small token of breakfast. Despite what I’d eaten no more than two hours ago, I didn’t stint at the pots. Skulking in the grass after not much sleep was one thing, but on an empty belly was entirely another. Then we got our bows and blades, and headed for the thickets that bordered a low section of the river, ostensibly to hunt rabbits. I was supposed to leave Fíli well hidden in the thickets with Rinnala and the flight of young dogs that trailed me, then make my way back to the pony enclosure to meet Barkhuzi. But I’d snuck only halfway back to the tents when Barkhuzi appeared on Kulomar with Orrud trailing behind.

“Taad thinks we just want to have a bit of a private race,” Barkhuzi grinned down at me as I took Orrud’s reins. “I didn’t think it was important to tell him otherwise.”

I pulled myself atop the red yearling to grin back at him. “That’s good. No one can say you lied.”

“Always wise,” Barkhuzi nodded, still grinning. “Where’s Fíli?”

“In the middle of the thicket. We weren’t able to sneak out completely unnoticed, though. There are my usual six trailers with Rinnala.”

“They’ll be welcome. If we’re to be secret about getting to Ankulaz, we can’t drop you too close to him or he’ll see you coming. The dogs will have to guide you to him.”

“They’ll get me there,” I avowed, as we set off for the thicket. We had to venture out into the river shallows to get the horses around the thicket, but Fíli and the dogs were waiting for us as we waded out and around the other side. I shifted so Fíli could get into the saddle in front of me, because when we got close to Ankulaz, I’d slide quickly off the back to disappear into the grass. I wound arms around Fíli’s waist, and off we went at a fast canter, searching for a single pony and rider across the vast sea of green and brown.

We saw only ponies and antelope for several miles before we spotted the first Dwarf.

“That’s Kheluz,” Fíli affirmed, shading his eyes. “So Ankulaz should be near, don’t you think, Khuzi?”

“Closer than normal,” Barkhuzi agreed, scanning for the other Dwarf. “Derfrulia’s had both of the Urghuls closely shadowed – one because he’s the face of trouble, and the other because he’s the source of trouble. Ah, there, off to the left. See him, Kíli?”

“I’ve got him,” I agreed. “Off I go, then.”

“Good luck, brother,” Fíli wished me.

“Aye, good luck,” Barkhuzi added. “Keep low.”

“Thanks.” I slid off Orrud’s rump, and sank below the height of the grass. “Mhornar, Alabrin, the rest of you, come.”

As soon as my two dogs and the young ones were beside me, Fíli and Barkhuzi rode off with Rinnala and Neyshath close beside them. I let them get out of earshot, then I ventured a look over the grass. I could just see the top of Ankulaz’s blond fuzz, so I ducked back down, and looked to the dogs. I’d never tried to manage eight before, and a couple of these were young and silly, but we’d make the best job of it we could. I gave them a pat all round, then made the hand signal for _hunt_.

Eight sets of eyes sharpened on me, drawing me to grin despite the importance of the moment.

“All right, my beauties,” I whispered. “Let’s hunt a Dwarf.”

Off we slunk into the grass.

 

* * *

 

“Come on,” Barkhuzi murmured to me as soon as Kíli and his flight of dogs had ghosted away through the grass. “Kheluz is a canny one, and it’ll take both of us to keep him from looking at what Ankulaz is up to.”

“Kíli says he’s mad about his dog,” I murmured back.

“Right he is. But he’s even madder about a good horse race.” Barkhuzi winked at me. “That’s just the tick.”

When my friend urged Kulomar forward into a canter, Orrud and I were right behind.

 

* * *

 

 _Skator_ , sneaking up on a Dwarf on the grass was harder than I expected. The tall grass might look thick and green, but spring’s growth spurt had fallen to summer’s growing heat and hungry ponies, and it was sparser than I would have liked it. I had to keep my bow in hand, too, with an arrow nocked on the string, prudence against me surprising a wolf as I hastened past. Still, I darted with all stealth from one thick patch to another, and hoped that Ankulaz wouldn’t notice the disturbance until too late. Every now and again, I paused to venture a quick look above the waving strands to keep track of where my quarry was. He was attentive enough, but lackluster, just going through the motions of guarding the herd without any thought or force behind it. When I got close enough, I sent all eight of the dogs racing out past Ankulaz so that his attention was on them and not me sneaking up behind him. Then I sprinted – if running bent nearly double to remain hidden in the grass counted as sprinting – right for the Urghul heir. I flitted beside his pony, the side away from Kheluz, and grabbed for his arm in case he tried to pull a blade –

He did more than pull a blade. When I grabbed his wrist, the steel cutting edge of a tough, well-used knife was inches from my eyes. A huge, meaty fist wound itself in the front of my tunic, and hauled me up to dangle half a foot off the ground.

“Fucking hell, Ankulaz!” I squeaked like a protesting bairn. “It’s me – Kíli! Put me down!”

“How many more are with you? Do you try to harry me like wolves do a foundering pony?” he snarled, his gaze darting this way and that as I fought his grip. “Tell them to come out, or I’ll send you back to them in pieces!”

That well-worn knife dove near as if it wouldn’t wait for me to tell anyone anything. I dropped my bow with its nocked arrow, twisted like a trapped rat, and bit the hand full of my tunic until Ankulaz howled and blood gushed into my mouth. I seized his knife hand and bent it backwards without mercy until I heard bones creaking, if not cracking. There! The hand in my tunic loosened, and I twisted again, tearing myself out of Ankulaz’s grasp.

“It’s just me!” I protested. Oh and oh, the Urghul gathered his pony’s reins, about to dash away before I said a word. If he ran off, I’d never get this close to him again, so I dove back in, clutching the pony’s halter in an iron grip. “Just me! Stand down!”

“You lie!” the Dwarf spat, trying to tear his pony from my hands. “I saw how many of your Melkor hounds went past me. Tell their masters to show themselves!”

“It’s just my dogs!” I barked. “Them, and half a dozen young ones that’ve seen fit to trail after me – I swear! Just give me a moment, and I’ll prove it!”

“Prove it first!”

I didn’t dare whistle, because Kheluz would be sure to hear that. But thanks to Mhornar and Alabrin, I didn’t have to. They and the six young ones were behind me, all of them growling. Oh, _skator_ , I couldn’t let them bark! I dug my heels into the dirt, grabbed the pony’s ear, and hauled his head down. “Mhornar, Alabrin, stay! All of you stay!”

In a few seconds, eight dogs had seated themselves on the ground. All of them continued to growl angrily at Ankulaz. To be honest, I wasn’t much above growling at him myself.

“Satisfied?” I snapped.

“They’re about to attack me.”

“They’re pissed that you’re trying to hang me off your pony like a dead coney,” I countered. “Settle, and they will, too.”

Ankulaz stopped yanking at his pony’s reins, but he still held his knife. I let go of the halter, and shook myself straight with a glare. I picked up my arrow and returned it to my quiver with exaggerated care, and settled my bow across my back. I gave the dogs a reassuring look, and the growling stopped.

“Down,” I bid the eight, and most of them complied. I gave a stern look at the youngest pair and pointed down. “Go on, now, that’s a good dog. You, too, Arvazr.”

When all the dogs squatted on their paws, I held out my hands.

“See? No growls.”

“Why did you come skulking after me?”

“Because you’re fucking hard to talk to, and I need to,” I said truculently.

That got me a hard glower, but maybe curiosity lurked somewhere deep underneath the expression. “Why?”

“Because you and I have something in common.”

“What?”

I squatted in front of the dogs. “Would you get off your pony for a minute to hear me out?”

That got his hackles up. His jaw set, and his gaze scanned the grass again as if he expected to be ambushed by another seven Dwarves.

“Fine,” I snorted. “Stay up there, if you don’t trust me when I say it’s just me and the dogs here. I don’t have time to be insulted, and I don’t have time to be diplomatic or polite, either, so forgive my bluntness.”

His expression didn’t change, so I forged ahead. In a few brutal, terse words, I told him about being cursed, isolated, humiliated, and harried in Thorin’s Halls. Before he could mock me for my weakness, I looked him right in the eye and put my arms akimbo.

“I think what happened to me is happening to you out here on the grass.”

Ankulaz’s haughty, glowering anger vanished in a spasm of surprise. He almost looked as if I’d stuck one of Grun’s gaming knives between his ribs. As that was the most authentic expression I’d ever seen on his face, I took it as a good sign.

“Oh, that struck home, did it?”

“You’re as fey as you look,” he spat.

Oh and oh, had I succeeded in appearing like that eerily fucking second I’d tried so hard to be? Ankulaz probably did think I was fey when gleeful satisfaction washed over my face rather than the insult he likely expected.

“Worse folk than you have called me fey,” I countered. “Tell me I’m a liar, if you can.”

“No one bullies the heir of Urghul,” he said, drawing himself up with his old haughtiness. “No one speaks to me, or beats me, or humiliates me.”

“Maybe not, but someone’s making you dance like a puppet all the same. That’s subtler than blows from a fist, but it’s still bullying.”

“No one!” he spat at me.

“No? Then tell me why your second, Naggrundaz – apt name, that – tries so hard to keep you isolated from Kahgli. Don’t deny it – it’s obvious that he is.”

I didn’t have time to let Ankulaz mouth another denial, so I came right up to him on his pony and glared my best glare. I filled my fist with his tunic, and drew him down to me, no matter that he still held his knife in his hand.

“What’s he telling you? That Kahgli thinks you’re vermin lower than the wolves that attack the herd? Well, a lot of them think that, and not just because of old history. Grun’s been spreading innuendos since he got here. He’s even tried to draw my brother and me into it, only we won’t have any part of it. He’s made you out to be a weak, touchy, dishonorable, drunken, haughty, disagreeable, cruel, vindictive bastard, so is it any reason that no one wants to get near you? The only thing that keeps them from doing the same thing to you that someone did to Yanna’s Maamr is Derfrulia’s insistence on honoring every scrap of rite and ritual until your fostering is done. If you’re fine with that lovely opinion, or if some cockeyed Urghul justice keeps you under Grun’s thumb so completely, then far be it for me to tell you what fucking shit that is. But if you think it’s fucking shit, too, and you didn’t have anything to do with Helglor’s death, then say so, and I’ll help you set things better.”

I let Ankulaz’s tunic go, and backed away. I snuck a look over Ankulaz’s shoulder, but didn’t see Kheluz, Fíli, or Barkhuzi, so maybe my conversation with the Urghul heir had gone unseen. I hunkered down beside the dogs, and waved towards the grass.

“I’ll make my way away once you move on.”

“What?” Ankulaz said to me – a bit stupidly, I thought, but given how shocked he was, maybe that was all he could say.

“I’m trying to keep out of Kheluz’s sight,” I explained impatiently. “This wasn’t a conversation I wanted anyone to speculate about. The tents are too full of rumor as it is.”

“Oh,” he mumbled. Valar, was the Dwarf a halfwit? I snorted again when he made no move, then gestured to the dogs.

“Hunt,” I bid them, and the lot of them rose to their feet and faded into the grass the way we’d come. I turned to follow them, keeping low.

“I don’t know what happened to Helglor.”

I froze.

“Return,” I said, before the dogs got too far ahead of me, then turned to look back at Ankulaz as the dogs gathered around me. “You don’t?”

He shook his head, and stared down at his hands. “I was drunk.”

I edged towards him. “Like when you fought Grun a couple of days ago?”

He looked up. “Did I fight with Grun?”

I blinked in surprise. “Valar, the pair of you brought everyone running. We had to toss you into the river to get you to stop.”

A painful, humiliated wince. “And then I insulted all of Kahgli.”

It was my turn to blink. “You didn’t say a word to Kahgli. Once you got thrown in the water, you passed straight out, and didn’t say another thing.”

The eyes that met mine were cautious, disbelieving. “Why do you lie about it? You’re a friend of Kahgli, not Urghul.”

“My word’s not for sale to anyone, friend or foe. When I say that you didn’t say anything to Kahgli, I mean it. What little you did say was to Grun, something about his Maamr.”

Ankulaz’s face paled, and he swallowed hard. Then he did something I didn’t expect – he put his knife back in his belt sheath, got down from his pony, and came up to me to lay a hand on my shoulder.

“You are sure of this? I said nothing to Kahgli? No insult?”

I shook my head firmly. “Not a one.”

He scrubbed a distracted hand through the remains of his hair. I thought about what he’d said, and imagined Master Balin whispering in my ear.

“So... when you’re full of arkhi, you don’t remember what you do. You don’t remember what happened at the river, and you don’t remember what happened to Helglor, because you were drunk then, too.”

Ankulaz’s nod was ashamed.

“So when Grun told you that you’d insulted Derfrulia, as well as all of Kahgli, you believed him.”

Another nod. “He said that Derfrulia held off banishing me only out of respect for the fostering rituals, but that no one was to speak to me, or offer me welcome at any of their tents. So... since I deserved that, I bore it as honorably as I could.”

I snorted again. “I heard a different tale. As soon as you passed out, Grun offered to take the two of you back to Urghul, because you weren’t fit to serve on the grass that night. Derfrulia said she wasn’t so harsh as to punish a Dwarf for mourning the death of his cousin, and that you wouldn’t be given any arkhi while you were with Kahgli because it wasn’t good for you. That’s all.”

A long second went by, then Ankulaz turned back his hard black stare on me. “No shunning?”

“No shunning.”

“You swear this is true?”

“I swear as a Durin, and proudly so.”

A convulsive swallow worked its way down Ankulaz’s throat.

“Why did you search me out to say this?” he demanded.

“At first, it was because of what happened to me in Thorin’s Halls. I can’t and won’t stand by and watch that happen to another Dwarf. I was lucky – my brother saved my life. You’re not so lucky, because your second’s gone to a lot of effort to keep anyone from saving yours. I wonder why that is?”

Ankulaz’s expression was far more intelligent now, and if he didn’t ask himself exactly that question, then I was a fool. “And now?”

“Yesterday, someone started a rumor about my brother and Yanna, about how they neglected the herds to dally. It wasn’t true. I wonder why Grun would start that rumor? To isolate my brother, perhaps? Or Yanna? The way he’s isolated you?”

Ankulaz shot me a sharp look.

“I don’t like rumor, innuendo, bullying, manipulation. They’re the cruel, dishonest tools of cruel, dishonest folk, and an insult to anyone’s honor. Folk who use such tools need to be stopped before they destroy anyone.”

I turned once again to go.

“He told me the dogs were magic, too – dark magic that sought to pull Urghul down.”

“He what?” I looked back with blatant disbelief. “Oi, _gajarpani kurvanog_ , Ankulaz! You’ve got herding dogs, don’t you? Wolfhounds aren’t so different – they’re just dogs. Wonderful, delightful, brilliant dogs that’d give you the world if you’re smart enough to ask them rather than yell at them, but no more.”

Mhornar had circled back to me, with Alabrin and the rest behind. I stroked my eerie queen’s unruly fur and gave her a fond smile.

“You said that you didn’t tell them what to do, that you listened to them, and them to you.”

I nodded. “Smart thing, too. A lot of the time, I wouldn’t know what to do if they didn’t tell me.”

“How do you do that?”

I frowned in confusion. I’d sought out an enigmatic, possibly murderous Dwarf alone to talk about dogs? How should I answer such a question?

“Trust?” I ventured. “Love? Respect?”

Ankulaz bowed his head. When he looked up again, the full weight of his mourning was on him, and he looked so grey that I almost pitied him. But now it was Master Dwalin who whispered in my ear, telling me not to drop my guard.

“What I felt for my cousin, then.”

“It’s a lot like what I feel for my brother, yes.”

Piercing black eyes skewered me. “Do you think Grun killed my cousin?”

Oh, Valar... did a precipice loom before me?

“I... don’t know,” I said in my most diplomatic way. “But... I don’t know that anyone else had a reason to, either. Fíli and I have no feud with Urghul, and we weren’t near enough to strike at Kazunki when he fell, anyway. Derfrulia decreed that all of Kahgli treat you and your kin with utmost courtesy, and Kazunki was respected as a hard worker. So... if any Kahgli wanted to defy Derfrulia and strike at Urghul, I wouldn’t say Kazunki would have been the target.”

Thoughts rolled around inside Ankulaz’s head. He was such a deliberate Dwarf! I needed to take my leave soon, before Fíli and Barkhuzi ran out of reasons to distract Kheluz without him getting suspicious, or they came looking for me.

“I thank you for your directness,” Ankulaz said at last. “You have given me much to think about.”

I nodded as an equal. “We can talk again if you want. I’m easy to find, aren’t I? Just follow the dogs.”

I shrugged, smiling, and was rewarded with perhaps the palest of upturned lips. Then I fell back into the grass, and made my way back the way I’d come.

Had my words changed anything? It was impossible to know.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tragedy strikes Khagli and Durin... and unsettles Urghul.

Barkhuzi and I ran Kulomar and Orrud back and forth over the grass so many times that I almost forgot why we were out here. How much fun was it to straddle a horse so big an Elf could ride it, and then race hither and yon like wind demons? We had Kheluz cheering us on as we made pass after pass. Orrud was a solid horse, and well on his way to understanding what I asked of him. Kulomar, though, was a handful, and put Barkhuzi to the test. As Kíli had told me, the black still had trouble controlling his excitement, and vented too much of it with rears, bucks, and whirling dances rather than speed in a straight line, or along a course. His lack of manners was good cover for why we had to race back and forth, over and over again. Maybe after a dozen runs, he settled enough not to flail, but it would be a long process to get him to be that calm when he first was asked to run. He didn’t like to let another horse get ahead of him, though, so maybe he’d soon sort out that the less flailing he did, the easier time he had staying ahead.

Eventually, just when I was sure that Kheluz would get suspicious about our repeated runs to and fro, I caught I a fractured glance of Kíli’s bow waving above the grass. At the end of the next run, I passed the word to Khuzi, and we let the horses walk back to Kheluz. We shared a quick word between comrades with Ankulaz’s mentor, and then headed back towards the tents, angling to the low spot where Kíli was to wait for us.

We found Kíli easily enough by watching for signs of eight dogs skulking through the grass. Of course Alabrin and Mhornar didn’t give themselves away, but the six young ones were still more enthusiastic than skilled, and they recognized Rinnala as one of their own. I hauled Kíli up into the saddle before me, and we made a quick retreat before either Ankulaz or Kheluz spotted us.

“Did you talk to him?” Barkhuzi and I pressed Kíli, when we were a safe distance away.

“I did. The damned bastard nearly skewered me with his knife, but once we sorted that out, we had quite a chat.” Kíli related all that he had learned from the Urghul heir.

“So he didn’t speak to anyone because he thought Derfrulia ordered him _shunned_?” Barkhuzi gave Kíli an incredulous look. “Mahal, I can’t remember Kahgli ever shunning anyone. We rely on each other too much for that. That’s almost a death sentence! How could he believe that?”

“That likely says a lot about how Urghul governs its folk,” I said. “Though.... they’re farther north, yes? I’d think that they’d need to rely on each other even more than we would.”

“Agreed,” Barkhuzi nodded. “That says a lot about why they’re not the most successful of clans, too – not enough cooperation.”

“Does Urghul tend ponies and goats, too?” I asked.

“Just ponies,” Barkhuzi amended.

“So what do we do about Ankulaz?” Kíli asked. “Would Derfrulia or Cyth do something if they knew what Grun told him?”

“Cyth... likely not,” Barkhuzi admitted. “She’s not one to let go of a grudge, not without a fight. Derfrulia might... or she might say that it was just hearsay.”

“It’s not ‘just hearsay,’” Kíli said with an exasperated snort. “I heard it right from Ankulaz’s mouth.”

“Aye, ye did,” Barkhuzi agreed.

“What if I tell her myself?” Kíli argued. “That should count for something, yes? If she’s so big on observing all the thises and thats of things correctly, then wouldn’t she include Ankulaz, too?”

“I’d think so,” Barkhuzi considered. He gave my brother a long look. “You’re advocating strongly for Ankulaz, Kíl. I understand why – you don’t like to see anyone bullied. But be careful.”

Kíli’s grimace was half cynical, half disgusted. “Because Kahgli might take a dim view of someone who looks on any Urghul with anything more than contempt. I know. It’s still wrong.”

“Aye, if Ankulaz is as innocent as you think of what happened to Helglor, it’s wrong and then some. But he said he doesn’t remember what happens when he’s drunk. He could have had a hand in my aunt’s death, and not remember it.”

“A valid point, yes,” Kíli nodded. “Believe me, I kept that foremost in my thoughts when Ankulaz held me off the ground. But... your aunt was killed in stealth, and if Ankulaz is as fumbly when he’s drunk as he was when he fought with Grun...”

“Aye, that’s foremost in my mind,” Barkhuzi agreed, and I hummed to make the consensus unanimous. “So... maybe we should talk to Derfrulia together. Not that she won’t believe you, Kíli, but if Fíli and I go with you, three of us might make the tale stick a little better.”

“All right,” Kíli nodded. “Yes, Fíli?”

“I’m with you, Kíl,” I assured him.

So we rode home with plan in hand. I slid off into the thicket by the river with Rinnala and a pair of Kíli’s young hangers-on to keep me well attended, and made my way back to the tents while Kíli and Barkhuzi returned Orrud and Kulomar to Merruli. I took my time returning, managing to catch a couple of rabbits to cover my absence. I had a terrible time getting the two younger dogs not to dive after the offal as soon as I’d taken it from the carcasses, but Rinnala helped me urge the dogs to stay on their haunches long enough for me to draw them after me and towards the tents again. I delivered the meat to the kitchen for the common stewpot, and then helped myself liberally of luncheon, if meat and stew merited such a formal designation. Kíli and Barkhuzi joined me, and we enjoyed a companionable time.

Of course Kíli was eager to pass his information on to Derfrulia, but the horse maid was out inspecting the herds. We didn’t have the luxury to wait for her to return before we went out on the grass, either. A rider came into camp to tell of a sudden spurt of wolf attacks, so Kili, Barkhuzi, Drekkani, Arkhanneh, and I all set out together, right in the highest heat of the day. We were all well swathed in headscarves, but Kíli and I had a bit more protection, as well – our thin night tunics offered good protection from the sun without making us expire from the heat. Maamr might roll her eyes at us riding around so attired, but the sun offered a bad burn to even the darkest skin, not to mention what it could do to Kíli’s pale hide, so we made no apology.

The five of us stayed together, and good thing, as we ran right into the thick of the wolves. They’d circled around us so that they fell on us from downwind, which meant the dogs had little warning. One moment, we rode along unencumbered – the next, we had wolves darting among us, biting and snapping. One of the youngest dogs went down under a trio of the beasts, then four of the dogs fell upon them, leaving us no clear shot for our bows. Kíli ranged on the outside of the conflagration, trying to pick off wolves before they closed on us. I drew my sword, and went after the wolves that dodged my brother’s arrows.

To my surprise, the other three Dwarves were off their ponies, attacking the wolves that lunged after the wounded dogs. I made to join them, but a shouting Drekkani waved me back.

“Stay mounted! You and Kíli keep any more from rushing in on us!”

“Aye!” I shouted back. “We’ll keep them back!”

Kíli and I circled the group, doing our best to keep the rest of the pack off dogs, ponies, and Dwarves. The experienced dogs, Kíli’s and mine among them, also guarded the perimeter, harrying and driving the wolves towards us before peeling off at the last second to be clear of Kíli’s arrows and my sword.

As fast as the fight had begun, so it ended.

Just that fast, dogs and ponies were the only beasts that raced around us, and wolfish snarls faded on the wind. The air was far from silent, however – heartrending whimpers from injured dogs drowned out Dwarvish panting. All of the experienced dogs were more or less unscathed – thank the Valar for that, as I couldn’t have borne it if Rinnala had suffered another injury – but three of the young dogs had suffered in the attack. Before Kíli and I could do more than exchange worried grimaces, Arkhanneh turned to us.

“Kíli, Fíli, Barkhuzi! Stay mounted, and keep your eyes on the grass. Don’t let the pack circle around again while we tend the dogs!”

Barkhuzi remounted, and took Arkhanneh and Drekkani’s ponies in tow so our mentors could see to the injured dogs. I put up my sword, and joined Kíli to put our bows between our laboring mates and any wolves that hoped for another foray against us.

“That made no sense,” Kíli wondered aloud. “We didn’t threaten the wolves... they wouldn’t attack us for sport, would they?”

“Likely there’s a kill nearby, or a den,” was Barkhuzi’s conjecture. “So it was a defensive act, not an offensive one.”

“Neither is good,” I asked, keeping my eyes on the grass.

“No, it’s not,” Barkhuzi agreed. “As soon as the dogs are clear, we should circle, to see if we find anything.”

I glanced at the three injured dogs. One thrashed badly, almost as if she tried to run away from the pain of her wounds, which didn’t help Arkhanneh or Drekkani tend her. One of the other two, in contrast, didn’t move much at all, which was no better. So much blood gouted their fur! When Drekkani took out thread and needle to stitch a leg wound, I turned back to my watch duty. I didn’t want to see such beautiful dogs suffer, or worse, die.

So much time passed before our mentors rose from the sides of the wounded dogs! They sent Barkhuzi and Kíli off to make a cursory search for either a recent kill or a den, but they found neither. While they did so, I scanned the dead wolves to retrieve our arrows. Out of consideration for the wounded dogs, we didn't take the time to skin the dead wolves, or even pack their carcasses, but left them out on the grass; maybe the rest of the pack would take that as a warning.

It took all five of us to load the dogs for the journey back to the tents. Out came canvas such as had cradled Rinnala when she’d been shot, and one of the dogs was laid very, very gently atop it, then slung between the ponies that bore Arkhanneh and Drekkani. One wasn’t so badly injured, and Arkhanneh took her on her saddle – such a doleful sight to see one of the proud racers cradled against the dam’s legs! The third had a long tear parallel to her spine, which had been sewn up. The dog could walk, but only with great pain, so Barkhuzi and Kíli lifted the poor thing carefully up to Drekkani. Then we made our way slowly, slowly home.

It was a good thing that Barkhuzi, Kíli, and I had to act as guards for such a slow procession, because it meant we couldn’t think so much about the injured dogs. Even so, Kíli was beside himself – all three of the wounded dogs had been ones enamored with trailing my brother, and only partially trained. Kíli took it as a personal failing that he hadn’t yet taught them what they needed to know.

“I should never have let them follow me,” he whispered, glancing at the badly wounded dog slung between our mentors’ ponies. “It’s my fault that they got hurt.”

“It’s not your fault,” Barkhuzi insisted, riding near. “Rinnala, Alabrin, and Mhornar are the best teachers a dog could have. Besides, our wolfhounds learn faster and better when they’re happy, and following you makes them happiest of all.”

That encouraged Kíli as much as anything could, given how upset he was about the injuries, especially to the young dog cradled in the canvas. I didn’t want to say anything, but I didn’t expect the poor creature to live through the ride home. He’d been raked and torn from shoulder to hip on both sides, and no amount of stitching could disguise that. I think the dogs shared my opinion, because they circled back time and again, not nosing the canvas, but sniffing and whimpering before they ranged back out on their guard.

When we made out the tents clearly under the clan’s mast, I was sent racing ahead to alert Vikken about the injured dogs. By the time the rest of the party got into camp, both Maaggulmuli and Khel had their things laid out, waiting to receive the injured dogs. Kíli bolted off his pony to help the Dwarves ease the canvas sling from the ponies.

“I want to stay with Arvazr,” he pleaded to Vikken and the medics, as they bore the injured dog to the healers. “Please, let me stay with him.”

“Aye, your help would be welcome, Kíli,” Vikken agreed, giving me a grim look. Oh and oh, he didn’t expect the dog to live, either. I got off my pony to snare Kíli’s before she wandered off.

“I’ve got your pony, Kíl,” I assured him. “You stay with the dogs.”

“Thank you, Fíli,” he gave me a grateful look. It was fleeting, but I took no offense; he was right to keep his attention on the poor dog. I didn’t have to imagine how terrible he felt – again I was relieved that my beautiful Rinnala had escaped without injury, and Kíli’s Alabrin and Mhornar, too. I left my brother with Arvazr’s head cradled on his knees, while Maaggulmuli worked beside him. In truth, I was glad to turn away. I didn’t want to see one of the most beautiful, spirited, loving creatures in all of Middle Earth die.

Barkhuzi was beside me, leading his pony as well as those that Drekkani and Arkhanneh had ridden to the briar enclosure. He looked grim, and both Rinnala and Neyshath nosed each other with sorrowful whines.

“He won’t live, will he? Arvazr.”

Barkhuzi shook his head. “I'd say not. Too many savage wounds, too much spilt blood.”

I swallowed. “Kíli will take it hard.”

“We all will.”

I grimaced. Of course everyone in Kahgli would mourn the loss of a wolfhound. They relied on them so heavily that even the loss of a young one was hard.

“Of course. I didn’t mean to imply that any of us wouldn’t. I... just worry about my brother.”

Barkhuzi nodded in understanding. “And I meant no reproof. All of our dogs are special, and not just because they’re valuable and essential to the health of our herds. They’re...”

“Some of the bonniest creatures in all of Middle Earth,” I finished, with conviction.

“Aye, they are,” Barkhuzi heaved a sigh, and gave me a grateful smile. “They are.”

What else was there to say? If there were anything, neither of us found it while we saw to the five ponies and their tack. Then we checked Rinnala and Neyshath again, just to reassure ourselves that they were well. We even cleaned the arrows we’d retrieved from the attack, but all too soon, we couldn’t keep ourselves from going back to see how the injured dogs were.

Unsurprisingly, Klyn was beside the wounded dogs with Vikken, Kíli, and the healers. Each of the two less-seriously injured ones rested easily on soft hides with an attendant close at hand. Arvazr, though, lay on his side, panting. Kíli was right beside him, talking to him softly and stroking his ears, one of the few places that hadn’t suffered the wolves’ savagery. Mhornar and Alabrin lay on either of my brother, keeping watch, and farther afield, the three unscathed members of Kíli’s usual flight, as well as several other dogs, had arranged themselves.

“Is he in pain?” I asked Barkhuzi. “Would someone.... ease him from it?”

“Maaggulmuli will have dosed him for the pain right off,” my friend whispered back. “A wolfhound is too valuable to kill, even in mercy, if there’s the least chance that he’ll survive.”

I took in all the dogs gathered around Arvazr, but before I could ask what that meant, Barkhuzi exhaled.

“Aye, they know.”

“That Arvazr will...”

Barkhuzi nodded.

“So Kíli must know, too.”

A shrug. “In his head, maybe. But in his heart, not yet.”

“So... the dogs know when one of their own is about to...”

“Likely they do. It’s not often that they gather like this, though it’s not a rare thing, either.”

“How long, do you think?”

Another shrug. “A second from now, or tomorrow, or two days from now.”

Such an agony of waiting that would be!

As if Barkhuzi heard my thoughts, he nudged me. “Come on. We’ll feed the dogs, then ourselves. We need to keep ourselves strong.”

At my look of inquiry, Barkhuzi glanced back at the injured dogs. “Me for Klyn, and you for Kíli. We’ll all feel the passing, but Klyn and Kíli more than most.”

I followed my friend to see to Rinnala and Neyshath. I would’ve seen to Mhornar and Alabrin, too, but neither would budge from Kíli’s side. It seemed that the entire camp settled into waiting, so I ate my stew as quietly as the next Dwarf, and saw to whatever tasks I hoped would help – collecting chips for the fire, slicing meat for the dogs and the stewpot, helping to start the nighttime beacon fire. But my tasks meant only that I stayed active while I waited with everyone else. Eventually, I couldn’t bear the waiting any more, and so went back to the dogs’ place. Kíli was still beside Arvazr, and so were both healers. Nothing seemed to have changed from an hour ago, for Vikken and Klyn still saw to the healthy dogs, the healers still moved between the three wounded dogs, and Kili still cradled Arvazr’s head in his lap...

Without warning, without a struggle, Arvazr’s rapid panting stopped, and his body relaxed for the final time.

Kíli didn’t move for some moments. His face was so grey that he seemed half dead himself. My brother stroked Arvazr’s ears gently, fighting to keep his composure, and to his credit, he held his tears longer than I expected. But soon enough, he nuzzled his face into the soft fur of the dog’s neck, and put a gentle arm over the still body.

The healers left him there to mourn.

I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I tiptoed to Kíli’s side, knelt beside him, and put an arm around his shoulders. Once more, I didn’t find words, but I hoped my presence would convey my sadness. No one would censure Kíli for showing how much he cared for poor Arvazr, because both of the healers were no less upset, and Klyn openly cried. It was such a hard scene to witness that I looked away, but that provided no relief. I all but saw word of the death pass throughout the camp, for all of the folk showed their grief openly as soon as they heard.

I suppose we’d made a good accounting of ourselves to take eight of our attackers. But the price had been high.

One of the clan’s prized wolfhounds was dead.

 

* * *

 

Kíli was allowed to mourn beside Arvazr unmolested, but when an hour had passed, I jostled him gently.

“I’m sorry, Kíli. I don’t want to intrude. But it’s been so long since you ate, and Mhornar and Alabrin, too. You all need something in your bellies, and then you need to rest.”

“I’m not hungry,” Kíli whispered.

“Let me bring you something.”

“I said, I’m not hungry.”

“I understand. But let me take Mhornar and Alabrin for their meat. They’re likely parched.”

At least concern for his dogs punched a hole in Kíli’s grief, albeit a small one, and he cast a teary look around for his two wolfhounds. He kept a hand on poor Arvazr’s head when he stroked first Mhornar’s ears, then Alabrin’s.

“Go with Fíli,” he asked them. “He’ll give you your meat today. Go with Fíli.”

Alabrin gave me a solemn look, and the normally silent Mhornar gave a whuff of protest. But they both followed Rinnala and me, and took their meat from my hand without complaint. I gave both a careful check to make sure we hadn’t overlooked any wound, but both were sound; the act was more to reassure myself than anything else. The dogs bore my examination patiently enough, but both were more worried about Kíli than the expired Arvazr, for they trotted off to rejoin my brother as soon as I finished my scrutiny of fur and paws. I followed, wondering what to do next, but the clan settled that for me. Cyth was beside Kíli and Klyn, offering what comfort she could to them both.

“No, Kíli, we won’t leave Arvazr out on the grass,” Cyth was saying. “That’s fine for our folk, for we’re creatures of the earth, remember? It’s fit that at our end we feed our fellow creatures of the earth.”

“Will you bury him, then?” Kíli whispered. He still had Arvazr’s head in his lap.

“C-course not,” Klyn graveled. His eyes were red and weepy, and he stroked the dog’s flank. “They fly on the wind, don’t they? They’re creatures of the sun, aren’t they? So we’ll give Arvazr a grand sendoff back to the sky, won’t we? And what’s the grandest way to do that?”

“So... on the fire?”

Cyth nodded. “It’s fit that we give them back to the sun and the wind that way.”

Kíli nodded. “When?”

“Not long now. Just as the sun falls. It’s said that when the sun touches the earth, the spirits of our dogs know exactly which way to go.”

Kíli nodded, then buried his face in the dog’s fur again. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s no fault of yours,” Cyth told him firmly. “Life is perilous at the best of times, especially for the young. Mourn Arvazr as he deserved, but also remember that Mhornar and Alabrin and Rinnala still live, and so do you and your brother and your friends.”

Those were true words, but as far as my brother was concerned, they were comfortless.

 

* * *

 

Sending Arvazr off on the wind was a simple thing. Before the sun fell, we cleared a wide circle of the grass down to the dirt, then piled a day’s worth of antelope chips into the center, and soaked the chips in grease. Then we laid all that remained of sprightly Arvazr in the center, and when the sun was just above the horizon, we set a flame to the chips. Someone began a solemn dirge that all of Kahgli took up. The body flamed up quickly because of all the grease, and was gone before the sun had completely disappeared.

I felt so bereft, even though Alabrin and Mhornar were right beside me. I hadn’t been terribly attached to the silly Arvazr, but I’d been fond of him, and the manner of his death had jarred me. It had been as if the wolves had chosen the most innocent and inexperienced dog of the flight for the brunt of their attack, and had nearly torn him apart before the other dogs could rally to his defense. Mhornar had shown her true nature in that moment, for she’d led the attack with savage teeth and feral eyes. She’d killed one wolf unaided, tearing its throat out with a vicious shake before she and Alabrin were on to the next one.

How had such a fierce, matriarch of the wind and sky come to care about me?

Because I was as silly and innocent and inexperienced as Arvazr, and needed looking after.

After Arvazr’s pyre was nothing but ash, I found myself by the side of the river, with both of my dogs close beside me. I had cried all of my tears, and was as empty as a spent milkweed pod as I stared across the water rippled by the constant wind. Alabrin nosed my hand, and Mhornar whuffed a cautionary alert. Little light remained, as the sun was fully set now, and I needed to head back to camp before the night creatures decided I looked like a tasty morsel.

“You look after me well, both of you, my fierce beauties,” I murmured, and turned away from the water to walk back to the tents. A figure came towards me, though, so I paused.

Ankulaz?

The Urghul heir stopped before me, nodding acknowledgement. “Kíli.”

I nodded back. “Ankulaz.”

“I offer you my condolences about the dog."

My eyebrows went up. How unexpected was that? “I thank you. It was a hard loss for us all.”

The heir’s expression was impassive, but then that was how he always appeared, as if he were a boulder that didn’t notice if rain fell or wind blew, and he looked out over the river as if nothing were of more consequence.

“I... understand your sorrow. It was what I felt when my cousin fell.”

Ankulaz had probably felt much worse. How would I feel to see my brother die before me, as Ankulaz had Kazunki? I couldn’t imagine, and I hoped I never faced such a horrific moment. “I’m sorry Kazunki was lost to you. That was a devastating blow.”

“I... thank you.” A heavy hand fell on my shoulder, tightening briefly in commiseration. “I understand more about what you said to me this morn, too. I... would like to talk again.”

He turned to go back to camp, and I saw why – Grun already hastened towards us.

“I would like to. It was kind of you to speak to me, and I appreciate it.”

It was too dark for me to see Ankulaz’s eyes, but his hand tightened on my shoulder again. I dared to offer him the same consideration, but quickly, before Grun saw. Then I turned back to the river, and let Ankulaz return the way he came.

I felt better, a little.

Did Ankulaz? Or would his second offer him more poison for daring to speak to the gangrel Durin?

 

* * *

 

_“You spoke to the gangrel? What did you say to him?”_

_“He grieves for the dog.”_

_Grun snorted. “For a dog? He’s as feeble in mind as he is in body. What is there to say that can cure that?”_

_“It is Urghul’s way to think grieving is a weakness.”_

_“Ah, so you told him that?”_

_“In a manner of speaking.”_

_Grun almost choked on his delight. How rich was it for the Urghul heir to tell the sniveling gangrel that he was weak to spend his tears on a mere dog? That would set the gangrel against him better than he could have asked._

_It struck him then, that Ankulaz’s voice had been smooth, with little nuance... impossible to read._

_He was lying, then._

_What had he really said to the gangrel?_

_“You’re right that the gangrel is weak. To spend tears on a beast that’s no better than the meat it herds...”_

_“If the dogs are are no better than the meat they herd, then what are we? No better than the meat we eat?”_

_Not just a challenge, but a rebuke to boot._

_Grun fell silent, but his thoughts raced. Something had to be done, before his control slipped completely away._


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plague forces Kahgli's grief aside, but Kíli remains determined to speak to Derfrulia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> kurvi vogal saukarya = evil little fuckers (Orcish)  
> Kíli maush mab maj =Kíli feels like a meat on a stick; i.e., a snack for the flies (Orcish)  
> vras glob = kill the filth (Orcish)

Valar, what a roiling day it’d been! Kíli and I had shorted our sleep to spend our free morn tracking the taciturn Urghul heir, and while I’d raced a tall horse back and forth over the grass, Kíli had spent just as much energy wrangling with Ankulaz. We’d fought a savage battle with wolves, and grieved for a dead wolfhound. If I were exhausted, I couldn’t imagine how Kíli felt; he’d had even less sleep than I had, and he’d grieved for Arvazr more than I.

Once the dog’s pyre had burnt out, my brother asked for a few moments alone, which I respected despite how worried I was. He hadn’t eaten since noon, and he couldn’t afford to go so long without stoking the fires, so to speak. As the sun disappeared, I let him be for perhaps half an hour before I went in search of him. When I couldn’t find him in the gathering dusk, I stooped down beside Rinnala.

“We need to find Kíli, Rinnala,” I murmured in her soft ear. “Can you find him? Mhornar and Alabrin?”

I got a lick across my cheek before my queen rose and turned towards the river; I followed closely. Hmm, was that Ankulaz and Grun pacing towards me? They seemed intent on their conversation, so I didn’t interrupt, though I raised my hand in greeting, as was polite. It was too dark to sense much about the Urghuls’ mood other than that seemed intent, as brooding as ever. I gave little thought to it as Rinnala and I pressed on towards the river. Yes, there was Kíli with Alabrin and Mhornar beside him. He stared out across the water for another moment, then turned towards the tents. His dogs recognized Rinnala at once, and trotted forward to greet her.

“Fíli?” my brother queried, coming swiftly behind his dogs.

“Yah, it’s me. I’m here to get you to the kitchen fires. You haven’t eaten since noon, brother.”

“Yes, thank you, Fíli,” Kíli replied, exactly as if he hadn’t thought about eating until I mentioned it. I was sure that he hadn’t; that’s how upset he was. “Thank you for giving Mhornar and Alabrin their meat while I watched over Arvazr.”

“I’m sorry Arvazr is gone. He was a sprightly dog.”

Kíli hummed, but he sounded preoccupied rather than grieving. I touched his arm. “What?”

“Ankulaz,” Kíli said slowly, as if he rolled something around in his head. “He came out to offer me his condolences about Arvazr.”

I drew Kíli to a stop. “Did he? That’s...”

“I thought so, too,” Kíli nodded. “He was sincere. And he said he’d thought about what I’d said to him out on the grass, and he wanted to talk again.”

“That’s good,” I agreed, patting his arm in congratulation. “Well done, brother.”

Kíli hummed again, so he was still preoccupied. I tightened my hand on his arm. “And?”

A long, long exhale. “Grun came after him, I think as soon as he realized Ankulaz had spoken to me. Did you pass them when you came out to get me?”

“I did.”

“Did you hear any words between them?”

“I didn’t. But whatever they said, they were intent on it.”

Another hum.

I grinned. “You sound like a beehive, do kro.”

Finally, finally, Kíli’s lips curved up just the least bit. “Those two give me a lot to hum about.”

Kíli’s stomach saw fit to growl most ferociously, which made me chuckle. “Sounds like they give your stomach a lot to chew on, too. Come on. You’re empty, and so am I.”

While Kíli’s mood remained somber, it was lighter than before I came out to get him, so I was relieved. He didn’t eat with his usual voracious abandon, but a thoughtful, subdued Kíli still ate a mountain of food. We found Barkhuzi nursing Klyn through a bowl of stew, and sat with them to share our grief among friends. Despite Klyn’s recent silence on almost everything, he seemed comforted at our presence, or maybe the skin sloshing with arkhi beside Barkhuzi had helped ease him. Neither Kíli nor I had any of the stuff, but we did add to the tales that went around about dogs we’d known, and things we’d done, which served to soften our grief a bit more. We didn’t spend too long at this, as all of us but Klyn had had little sleep last night, and we were desperate to remedy that. Still, I was glad we made the effort to remind Klyn that no matter what his secret was, we still called him our friend.

As soon as hot food hit Kíli’s stomach, he all but fell asleep with his bowl in his lap. I wasn’t much more alert than he was, but I took his empty bowl and spoon with mine to dip in the cleaning pots, then stack with the rest. My brother managed to wish Barkhuzi and Klyn a peaceful night with me before I guided him to the necessary, then the family tent. He fumbled off his boots by the door, then pulled off his tunic and trews, though he didn’t quite stay awake to manage his smalls before he fell atop his cot. His dogs were no less exhausted, so they took their places underneath Kíli’s cot without hesitation. I plunked down on my cot, no less eager to lie prone than Kíli was, but a pile of something on my cot was in the way. I kicked it off the end of my cot and lay down with a groan.

“I wish we’d seen Derfrulia to tell her,” Kíli mumbled drowsily.

“We’ll tell her tomorrow, don’t doubt it – ow! _Skator kurvanog_!”

“What?” a bleary Kíli struggled to sit up as I slapped my arm. “What is it – oh, _dahaut_!” he cursed, slapping his thigh. “Fucking blood fly!”

The tent was too dark to see more than vague shapes, but I felt a slight trickle of warm, sticky blood on my arm and a sharp sting besides. If both Kíli and I had been bitten, more likely waited for their turn to dive down on us. Valar, all I wanted to do was sleep, but those pests would keep me from that if I gave into my weariness just yet. Then I registered what I’d kicked off my cot – a folded fly screen. A matching one had likely been on Kíli’s cot, but he’d collapsed atop it without noticing it. I crawled to the end of my cot and groped for the thing.

“Kíli, help me with the fly screens,” I shook my brother’s leg. Beneath my cot, Rinnala snapped at one of the pests, so my hope for a single insect was clearly a vain one.

“The what?” Kíli moaned, but his groan flared into another curse. “Fucking bastards! Go away!”

“Shh!” I hushed, because we weren’t the only ones in the tent, and it was rude to disturb their sleep with our fumbling. “Come on, Kíl! There’s a fly screen under you, do kro. The sooner we string them up, the sooner we get away from the flies, and our poor dogs, too.”

Kíli’s groan was longsuffering, but muted as he struggled off his cot and fumbled for the folded netting. Because we shared our space, we hooked our screens together and fastened them to the ties spaced along the tent canvas above us, then draped the bottom edges around our cots. We had a fly or two to kill inside the netting, but after that, we were left in peace, dogs and Dwarves both. Not a moment too soon, either – Kíli fell across his cot with a gust of breath, and was asleep without a word.

I was only a second behind him.

However long I slept, it passed without dream or regard. When I pried my eyes open again, it was morn, and already hot. Kíli lay inert on his cot. At first glance, he looked sickly, nothing but pale, naked, sweaty skin and a tangle of damp black hair, but Kíli was always paler than most, and I was no less sweaty given how hot it was in the tent. Only the barest breath of air stirred under the canvas, and the thin fly screens that had protected us during the night kept even that slight stir from reaching us. Oh and oh, if no one needed me first thing, I’d head straight to the river and jump in. It’d feel good to feel a bit cooler and cleaner, even if it didn’t last long given the day’s heat.

Welcome to summer, indeed.

I sat up, peeking outside of the netting to see if anyone else were in the tent. Several were still within, so I took pains to move quietly as I pulled on my trews. Ugh, they were too hot, and my stomach growled steadily. I promised it a good breakfast once I’d seen to Rinnala, which didn’t quiet it, but it was all I could do now. I shook Kíli’s leg gently.

“ _Skator-u_ ,” he mumbled.

“Kíl, it’s morn. We have to feed the dogs.”

With a soft but agonizing groan, Kíli floundered onto his back, then sat up. If my brother looked bedraggled and emaciated in the winter, he looked feverish and emaciated in the summer. He wiped his sweaty hair off his brow with the heels of his hands, and looked around blearily. When he cast me a glance, his eyes sharpened with alarm.

“Valar, Fíli,” he breathed. “Your arm.”

I hadn’t noticed before Kíli pointed at it, but now I did – I had an impressive welt and a smear of blood on my bicep from the blood fly that’d plagued me last night. Kíli had similar marks on his thigh just above the knee. It was tender to the touch and itched like fire, too.

“ _Kurvi vogal saukarya_ ,” Kíli muttered, rubbing his leg gingerly. “Kili _maush mab maj_.”

“ _Vras glob_ ,” I agreed. “I’m for a wash after we feed the dogs and ourselves.”

“ _Dahaut, oi_ ,” Kíli agreed. His yawn was cavernous, but after a bone-cracking stretch, he looked more or less alert, if still sweaty. “Is it late?”

“It’s so hot, we must’ve slept halfway to noon,” I agreed. A narrow furry head appeared beside me as Rinnala crawled from under my cot and stood beside it. She panted with her long tongue lolling out, so she was as uncomfortably warm as I was. On the other side of Kíli, Mhornar and Alabrin were no less eager to get out of the tent, so Kíli and I pulled on the absolute minimum of smalls and trews against the heat, and held up the fly screens for the dogs to precede us out.

“Can we just leave the netting up?” Kíli asked plaintively, looking around the tent as he pulled on his boots. “I think so – everyone else’s is still in place. That’s good – we won’t have to muck about with it every night.”

“That’ll save our skins a bit,” I agreed, as we went outside – and came right back inside the tent. It was cooler outside, but even with the steady breeze the flies were thick, and swift to fall on us. We rushed back under our netting, spent furious moments smacking the flies, then pulled on tunics and headscarves before we ventured outside again. Visiting the necessary was no joy, because it involved a lot of swatting and cursing to protect a lad’s most tender bits. The dogs were no happier than we, and so it was a miserable foursome that reached the dogs’ area for our companions’ breakfasts. Vikken wasn’t there, but Klyn was, as well muffled as we were. As soon as he spotted us, he hastened over with a crock of something in his hands.

“Mahal, the heat and the fucking flies fell on us all at once,” our friend swore. “Here, I’ve got the salve.”

“The salve?” Kíli and I chorused.

“Aye, the salve – what, no one’s told you about it? It’s the best protection we’ve got for the dogs,” he explained. “I don’t know if the flies hate the reek or the taste, but whichever it is, smear this on their fur and it keeps the flies away.”

“Oh and oh and oh, give it here!” Kíli reached for the crock at once. “Please tell me that it works on Dwarves, too!”

“Well enough,” Klyn nodded. “Smear it on your clothes as well as your skin. It’s oily, so it runs off you once you work up a sweat, but it’ll stay on cloth and hide as well as it does the dogs’ fur.”

Our friend was kind enough to smear Alabrin with the salve while Kíli tended to Mhornar, and I coated Rinnala well. My queen wrinkled her snout in distaste, but she bore the trial as if she knew it helped to keep the ravenous insects off her. We took special pains to streak their long, narrow snouts to keep the flies away from their eyes and tender nose skin, so in a few moments all three of the dogs were less frantic. Kíli and I were soon well doctored with the stuff as well. Flies still buzzed and dove at us, but few lit, and those that did didn’t linger long.

“I heard what everyone said about the flies,” Kíli sighed as he wiped the last smears of salve over the backs of his hands and then scraped his palms against his trews. “I believed what everyone said about the flies, too. But Valar, the truth of the tales is worse!”

“ _Skator_ , yah!” Klyn shook his head. “’T is a miserable three weeks we’ll spend with the hateful bastards. Bundled up like a blizzard’s coming in the night is bad enough, but during the day... ugh! And at night, the things are hellish – they come in clouds! The only good thing about them is that they plague the wolves as badly as they do us, and the wolves don’t have salve or netting or cloth to guard their skins, so they’re easier prey than we are, and the antelope, too. But it’s hard to appreciate that when you’re sweating yourselves to death in so many coverings.”

“The smell’s not bad, though,” Kíli offered, sniffing experimentally. The resinous smell was familiar, but I couldn’t identify what it reminded me of; maybe it was one of Maamr’s cooking herbs, because it wasn’t much like the lavender she used to keep the stored linens fresh out of season.

Klyn snorted. “Another small grace. Believe me, at the end of three weeks, you’ll swear it’s all you can smell. At that point, even the food tastes like it.”

“There’s nothing for it,” I shrugged. “Better to stink than be bled to death.”

Klyn touched his nose in emphatic agreement. “Make sure you see Cyth at the cook fires, both of you. She and some of the others are making up small pots of the salve for everyone to carry. You do _not_ want to be without it, especially out on the grass. And make sure you take extra water flasks, too. You have to drink more water throughout the day, else you’ll suffer heat sickness.”

We thanked our friend for his wise words, and turned to the Dwarf who carved up the dogs’ meat today. Now that the flies had descended, he didn’t cut much ahead of time, because the smell of the fresh meat drew what seemed to be every blood fly in Middle Earth. When he saw us coming, he flipped up the bloody cloth covering the fresh meat, gave a few swift, precise slices with his carving knife, tossed the pieces into our bowls, and then recovered the meat. We nodded thanks, and then ventured away to feed our hungry dogs. It wasn’t easy, not with a cloud of the nasty creatures whirring and diving onto the meat, and Kíli and I waving and batting at the pests to give our dogs each mouthful. Even so, the dogs probably swallowed several of them with each chunk of meat. But we persevered, and soon all three were fed. We dipped our bowls in the steaming wash pot with extra vigor to wash off every drop of blood, so that the flies had no reason to descend on the clean vessels. Once we hung our bowls up to dry, we did our bit to help the carver by stoking the fires under the wash pots. We had less trouble feeding ourselves, as our breakfast was cooked, and not of much interest to the pests, but we still had to eat with one hand, and shoo flies with the other. Once we were full, we approached the dams and sires ladling salve from a big cooking pot into small individual pots.

“Ah! Fíli and Kíli! Here, take your pots of salve. Make sure you use it liberally,” Cyth exhorted us, when she handed over the small clay pots stoppered with wooden plugs. “It’s not as if the smell will bother anyone, and the more you and your dogs avoid the flies, the more the rest of us will, too! Kíli, you take two, so you have enough for Mhornar and Alabrin.”

“What’s it made of?” I asked curiously, as Kíli took the extra pot. “Herbs, yes, and perhaps antelope fat as the carrier?”

The dam smiled at my interest, even though she had to wave away a few of the flies as she did so. “Antelope fat, yes, and as much goatsweed essence as we can stuff into it. Blood flies hate goatsweed! Maybe that’s why they don’t plague the goats as much as they do dogs, ponies, and Dwarves – it’s made of the same leaves that our wool goats eat day and night, and their oil.”

“Of course,” I snickered, waving my hands in self-deprecation. “I knew it smelled familiar, but I couldn’t think what it was. I can’t imagine why not – it was only all around me!”

That got a laugh from everyone around the kitchen area, which I took in good humor.

“How to you make it?” Kíli asked curiously, opening one of his pots and sniffing the contents. “The same way you make liniment?”

“Aye, similar,” Cyth nodded, pointing to the big pot that one of the sires stirred with a big wooden paddle. “Lots of antelope fat, then the leaves of the goatsweed. Simmer it a bit, for the heat releases the oil in the leaves, then dip it into the small pots to cool. Antelope fat doesn’t liquefy until the worst heat of the summer, and by then most of the pests are past. So it doesn’t make quite the mess it might, but it’s still messy enough.”

“A blessing all the same,” I avowed. “And the fly sheets, too. Thank you for putting them on our cots last night.”

Cyth appreciated the sentiment, and sent us on our way with a wave. Kíli and I took the precious pots in hand, making sure the twisted wool loops kept the wooden stoppers firmly in place to keep the salve from seeping out. Another of the dams passed us each the extra water flask for our belts. Now that we had our essentials to survive the summer pestilence of blood flies, we were at loose ends –

“I want to talk to Derfrulia,” Kíli whispered, proving that he wasn’t at the loose ends that I was. “Do you see her anywhere?”

I craned my neck to scan the camp. “Not yet. We can look for Barkhuzi at the same time, so he can go with us.”

Kíli hummed. “Good idea. Neither you nor he heard what Ankulaz said to me, but it’d be good to have my brother to vouch for me, as well as a Kahgli family member. I want her to believe me.”

Despite my brother’s soft voice, its intensity proved that Kíli was anxious to relate his tale to the horse maid without delay. As if he divined my notice, he gave me a sober glance before he went back to looking for Derfrulia.

“It’s important, Fíli, and not just for Ankulaz. Trust me when I say that if I can’t make folk notice what Grun’s about, he’ll work even harder at whatever plan he has. The longer this runs, the harder it’ll be to stop it.”

That made sense, so I patted Kíli’s shoulder in understanding as well as acceptance.

In a few moments, we found Barkhuzi by the ponies’ enclosure, already working to ready mounts for the hunters and herders about to go out on the grass. My brother and I lent willing hands, both to check ponies’ hooves and coats, and smear liberal amounts of salve around their eyes and tails, for those were the bits that the flies targeted until even the most patient of ponies bucked and fought to get away from the biting. When we had a good dozen well coated and saddled, Barkhuzi was able to get away for a bit, and we went to look for Derfrulia. We found her spooning her breakfast downwind of the salve pots, where the aroma thinned the buzzing insects.

Kíli made a beeline straight for the horse maid. Barkhuzi and I exchanged glances, but followed my brother.

This would be a... interesting conversation, to say the least. I hoped it would also be a fruitful one.

 

* * *

 

Derfrulia raised a hand in greeting to me as I drew near. “Kíli, good morn. You and Fíli have your salve pots, then?”

“Yes, Derfrulia,” I replied. Oh, Valar, how exactly did one begin such a hard conversation? I gulped down my nervousness, and suppressed a silly urge to bow. “Um, you are well this morn, I hope?”

“As well as the blood flies let me be,” the horse maid snorted, spooning up another mouthful of porridge. She chewed briefly, eyeing me as she did so. Perhaps her lips quirked in amusement. “Yes? What is it? It’s plain that you have something on your mind.”

“Yes, I do,” I admitted. “When you have a moment, I’d very much like a private word?”

Derfrulia took in Fíli and Barkhuzi hovering just behind me, and her eyebrow arched as she swallowed another spoonful of porridge. “I hope you aren’t going to offer to leave Clan Kahgli, too.”

“Am I... what?” I gaped. I sensed rather than saw Fíli wince, so I turned a startled look on him. “Um, no – no! No, not at all! It’s... something else?”

“Nothing,” Fíli murmured. “Nothing. Just... go on about your business, Kíl.”

“I... ah –” I tore my eyes away from Fíli to look back at Derfrulia. “Did Fíli offer to leave Kahgli? What for?”

“It’s nothing, Kíl,” Fíli murmured again, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

“That’s not nothing,” I countered. “What did you do that for?”

“Because I didn’t like the rumors that disparaged Yanna, do kro!” he hissed furiously. Then he directed to Derfrulia, “Kíli doesn’t know anything about what I said to you, Derfrulia, though he knew about the rumors. And Barkhuzi, too, I expect. This – this is about something different.”

“I see,” Derfrulia nodded, suppressing a smile. “It’s a different point of honor, then, Kíli?”

I looked blankly at her. Valar, I was about to lose the entire conversation, even before I’d begun it! I had no idea what Fíli had gotten himself into, and right now I didn’t want to know. Despite my confusion, I forced myself back to my intent, to alert the Kahgli matriarch about one Urghul bullying another and why it was important.

“Um,” I said tentatively. “It’s... about the things I told you about why... I left Thorin’s Halls to come out on the grass.”

Derfrulia’s eyes sharpened on mine, and she frowned. “Has someone in Kahgli –”

“No!” I said hastily. “No, not at all. But... it’s related.”

Derfrulia’s gaze was level, but it was also unnerving.

I swallowed, but stiffened my spine in the same breath. If I lost my composure, I wouldn’t have the least chance to convince the horse maid of anything. “Please, if you’d indulge me just for a minute or two, I’ll be plainer. I promise you that it’s important.”

Derfrulia took time to finish her porridge, then her cup of tea. I managed not to wring my hands or make any other foolish gesture, but waited as impassively as I knew how. Finally, the horse maid rose to her feet in that effortless way I envied so much, and beckoned to me with a wave of her hand. I followed her some distance away from the tents before she turned back to me, her eyebrows raised in inquiry.

“I assume your brother and my grandson know why you want to speak to me, yes?”

I nodded.

“Then I will speak frankly. If this isn’t about how you were bullied in Thorin’s Halls, and it’s not to tell me that you’re being bullied on the grass, then what is it about?”

“Um, first, I thank you for the chance to speak,” I offered a bow over my hands –

Derfrulia chuckled. “Mahal, Kíli, Thorin’s Halls must be painfully polite for all the care and ceremony you and your brother make. Haven’t you seen that everyone speaks to me all day and night as a matter of course?”

I shot Fíli a look. Did the horse maid’s reaction have something to do with whatever Fíli had said about leaving the grass? Valar, was my brother tired of our time here? Did he want to go home? Would I have to go with him if he decided to leave?

“Just tell her, Kíl,” Barkhuzi urged, taking pity on me. “It’ll be all right.”

“ _Skator_ ,” I muttered in exasperation, which made both my friend and Derfrulia chuckle. “All right, I’ve done my best to be considerate and polite, and if you don’t want me to be, then I won’t. Because what I have to say is _kurvanog_ important.”

I glared at Fíli’s pained grimace at my cursing, then gave Derfrulia my complete attention.

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” I began. “No one’s bullied me. But there is a bully among us, and he’s bullying someone else. It’s going to get worse if it doesn’t stop, and if it doesn’t stop, it’ll hurt Kahgli.”

As dispassionately as I could, I described what I’d seen, no matter that Derfrulia’s expression was remote. Then I relayed my conversation with Ankulaz, hoping that the bit about the shunning would convince her that Grun was doing all he could to keep Ankulaz isolated. I even told her how Grun had described the wolfhounds as dark magical beasts, hoping that her love for Kahgli’s great dogs would persuade her that Grun’s intent was perfidious.

That part, however, drew incredulous chuckles from the horse maid.

“Dark magical beasts?” she repeated, eyeing me with disbelief. “No one would believe such a thing.”

“No one in Kahgli would, but Urghul doesn’t have wolfhounds,” I protested. “They don’t know how to work with them. If you’d never grown up with them, if you were used to yelling commands to a herding dog, then wouldn’t Mhornar and Alabrin, Rinnala and Neyshath, seem magical to you? No one in Thorin’s Halls would understand how many kinds of green there are out here, just like Kahgli wouldn’t understand how many kinds of iron ores there are to the mining clans. We all have ways that others don’t understand, that others might see as magic.”

I did get a shrug of concession from the horse maid. “Aye, I can see that. But telling ridiculous tales about wolfhounds doesn’t mean that Grun bullies Urghul’s heir.”

“Not all bullying is done with fists,” I said. “Those who set on me started with words long before they resorted to fists and worse. It’s the same as wolves setting on a herd of antelope, or ponies. They isolate the different and the weak first from the rest before they take it down. That’s what Grun does to Ankulaz.”

“To what end?” Derfrulia shot back.

“To control the heir of his clan,” I replied just as fast. “I don’t know why he wants to do that, but the Valar know that enough folk have tried to winkle their influence over Uncle Thorin. Clan Durin is poor, so it’s not for riches that they do it, but just to say they sit at Uncle’s side at the counselor’s table is enough for some. Or they try to inveigle their way into Fíli’s graces, looking for alliance. Yanna could tell similar tales, yes?”

“Aye, that’s plausible,” Derfrulia agreed.

“I’d hazard that he started the rumors about Fíli and Yanna, too, and maybe others, I don’t know why he’d do so – maybe to sow discontent, maybe just to raise mischief. Either way, he interferes with Kahgli.”

“Aye, that’s plausible, too, if not so clearly,” Derfrulia agreed again. Then she gave me a calculating look that made me tense, wondering what question she was about to put to me.

“Go on,” I prodded, before she could speak. “You’re about to put an arrow into the heart of my arguments, aren’t you?”

Despite her skepticism, Derfrulia laughed. “Mahal, you may be very young, Kíli, but you’re quick, and you’re not afraid to beard a dragon in its den. So yes, I have something to ask you, but not to skewer your argument. Since you’ve made it your business to wade into my business, let’s see how well you’ve thought this through. Suppose I agree with you that Grun is up to mischief. Just what do you expect me to do about him?”

“I don’t know that there’s much you can do about him,” I said. I was rewarded when the horse maid’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “He’ll spread his rumors, and likely sow discontent with his last breath. But there _are_ things to do about Ankulaz.”

“Such as?” Derfrulia’s voice dropped several tones, signaling that she wasn’t willing to grant the Urghul heir the slightest consideration. Valar, I hope I didn’t meet with the same reception from Kahgli’s leader about Ankulaz as I had from Cyth. Nevertheless, I plowed forward.

“Maybe Ankulaz had no hand in your daughter’s misfortune – or maybe he did,” I amended hastily as my boldness got an angry frown from the horse maid. “No one can say clearly. But... folk saw that he was drunk to his eyeballs before Helglor fell, didn’t they? We all saw that he was a right staggering mess during his fight with Grun, and not fit to sneak up on anyone, was he? Even so... it’s right to treat him warily, I agree. But... it wouldn’t be too much for Kahgli folk to speak to him more often, or to see that Grun isn’t his only company, is it?”

“I can’t make folk speak to Ankulaz when they prefer better company,” Derfrulia countered.

“Maybe not,” I riposted. “But if they don’t, then Grun is the one who relays everything that Kahgli says and thinks and does to Ankulaz. That means that Grun speaks for Kahgli.”

“Grun does _not_ speak for Kahgli.”

I suppressed a wince at the horse maid’s glacial tone, but I wasn’t willing to back down yet. I hoped my indifferent shrug wasn’t too stubborn or defiant, and I kept my voice calm. “If no one else talks to Ankulaz but Grun, then Grun speaks for Kahgli.”

Derfrulia glared even harder, but I shrugged again, and willed myself to hold her eyes. I was surprised when she broke eye contact first, but it was to turn her glare on Barkhuzi.

“You have a hand in this foolishness, too, grandson?”

Barkhuzi didn’t flinch. “I don’t like Grun, Grandmother. I think he’s a viper, and a viper shouldn’t speak for Kahgli to anyone, whether Urghul folk or not.”

“Even if the one he speaks to killed your aunt?”

“If Ankulaz killed my aunt, then all the more reason that Kahgli should talk to Ankulaz. He’s here among us, away from Tobazel. Maybe we’d find the truth of what happened.”

Those icy black eyes landed on Fíli, who bore it as stoically as Barkhuzi did. “And what’s your part in this?”

Moral support, I expected my brother to say, but he didn’t embarrass me by saying it that way. Instead, he said, “My brother spoke because he could tell you what Ankulaz said firsthand. But I’m glad to second him, because I agree that Grun’s a danger to Clan Kahgli.”

Derfrulia raked all three of us with her piercing gaze for a few moments longer, then her expression grew more considering. “I will think on what you said.”

That was a clear dismissal, so whether Clan Kahgli was less formal than Clan Durin, I bowed over my hands.

“Thank you,” I said simply, and backed away.

Unaccountably, Derfrulia’s lips curved up. “What, no more protests and counters?”

My grin was lopsided. “That’d make me even more annoying than the blood flies, wouldn’t it? I don’t think it’d do me any favors to make you think of me that way, when I’d rather you think about what I said.”

Derfrulia’s laughter was without rancor. “True. I thank thee. Now off with the three of you.”

We went without delay, dogs trotting beside us to keep pace with our hasty retreat.

“Mahal, my grandmother is a hard one,” Barkhuzi exhaled when we were out of earshot. “But you held firm, Kíl. That was good.”

“Do you think I persuaded her about Grun?” I asked anxiously.

A shrug. “She likely thinks no differently of him than you do. She’s always aware of the flow between folk, and well able to sort out who’s spoken ill or good of another.”

“Then maybe she’ll at least bring Ankulaz into the fold a bit?” I asked.

Another shrug. “I hope so. But she has more to consider than what we brought her, Kíli. We’ll just have to wait and hope.”

That wouldn’t be easy. To cover my unease, I poked Fíli in the ribs.

“What was that about leaving the grass, do kro? You don’t really want to, do you? Valar, Fíli, please say you don’t!”

“Course I don’t, and you’re the do kro if you think so,” Fíli snorted.

“Then why did you say you did?” Barkhuzi asked in confusion.

“I didn’t say I did,” Fíli snorted with exasperation. “I said that I knew about the rumors about Yanna and me being inattentive, that they weren’t true, but if Kahgli thought I hadn’t served properly and chose to dismiss me, then I’d go.”

Fíli looked uncomfortable, but before I could twit him, he grabbed my arm as well as Barkhuzi’s. “She turned me down, so it’s not important what I said. But something Yanna said is – she wanted Derfrulia to do something about Grun, too – I heard her say exactly that. So not that what you told her wasn’t important, Kíl, but since Yanna urged the same action, maybe Derfrulia will do something.”

“Derfrulia values Yanna’s counsel,” Barkhuzi said with hopeful mien. “If she listens, all to the good. But if she doesn’t... I might have a word with her myself about Klyn, because I’m worried sick about him, and whatever his secret is. Maybe a third voice in the mix will push her a little more.”

We had no time to think about whether Derfrulia would or would not act about Grun. Jiri spotted us walking back to the tents, and heralded us with a shout. The three of us were to join him for the day’s antelope hunt. No matter that the sun beat down as if we were metal on an anvil, the air was full of black flies, and we were already sweating and sticky under our salve-smeared tunics. The clan had to eat.

We saddled ponies, chirped to our dogs, and went out on the grass.


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Derfulia ruminates, Fíli tries to lie low, Barkhuzi lends an ear, and Klyn worries... Kíli plots.

_Derfrulia watched the three lads retreat. Mahal, two of them were hardly more than bairns, but it was hard to remember that listening to the youngest of them argue his point so well. Both he and his brother were harder workers than she’d expected, too; quick to learn, quick to help, and..._

_Quick to see more than she was comfortable with._

_They were too young to understand the complexities of life on the grass –_

_They were Durin’s Heirs, the King’s Heirs, and already better schooled in intrigue than many much older. Was it any surprise that Fíli had been so quick to confront a point of honor this morn, offering to make good on it, no matter the cost to himself? No more than it was a surprise that Kíli was as aware of what swirled around him as any of Kahgli’s wolfhounds. One would make a stellar king; the other a stellar king’s counselor._

_They were too young to understand the depths of Urghul treachery. They hadn’t lost kin to murder._

_They were smart enough to get Ankulaz away from his slithery second, and actually talk to him long enough to extract useful information._

_Kíli had suffered badly from bullies, and he viewed everything around him through that lens. Of course he’d see Ankulaz’s silence in terms of his own situation, but was it an accurate view?_

_Kahgli’s own wolfhounds had thought enough of both Durins to take to them at once – the ranking pair of dogs had chosen one, and the rising single queen had chosen the other. They never chose wrong._

_During his fight with Grun, Ankulaz had been so staggering drunk that even the newest, wobbliest foal could’ve fumbled out of his way. Helglor had been presciently aware of everything around her – such a blundering sot couldn’t possibly have caught her unawares._

_Grun was no better than Kíli argued. How that reptile had slithered about the camp, dropping a word here, a word there, gaining little traction... until lately. Maybe Fíli and Yanna chatted amiably around the breakfast fire, and maybe Fíli was smitten with her granddaughter, but he’d plainly kept his hands to himself because he knew the demands and strictures on a clan heir even better than Yanna did. Even so, Grun had only to murmur a sly word here and there to incite the more foolish of Clan Kahgli to worry that Fíli would claim Yanna and spirit her from the grass. And murmur those sly words he had – she’d heard mutterings about them herself, mutterings that had persisted no matter how she’d characterized them as foolish. That was troubling enough that Derfrulia had to heed Kíli’s warnings._

_How Cyth would grin in unseemly delight to think of the Urghul heir suffering at the hands of his second. Even if she had as little sympathy for Ankulaz as her mother, she should care enough for Kahgli, and the two Durin lads who had allied with her heart, if not her kin’s blood, and counter Grun’s influence with more than scoffing words. Wasn’t her grandson’s mate worth consideration, too? Klyn’s silence was somehow due to Grun’s malice – nothing could convince her otherwise._

_But to speak to the loathsome Tobazel’s son, heir of benighted Clan Urghul...._

You let Urghul rule you, _she accused herself._ You let them decide what you will do, and whom you will speak to. That is cowardice, and unconscionable!

 _But what if Ankulaz_ had _had a hand in Helglor’s death?_

_“If Ankulaz killed my aunt, then all the more reason that Kahgli should talk to Ankulaz,” Barkhuzi had said. “He’s here among us, away from Tobazel. Maybe we’d find the truth of what happened.”_

_Her steady, unflappable grandson was as observant as the Durins. Still..._

_To learn anything, to stop Grun, she’d have to speak to Urghul’s heir._

_She swallowed._

_Grimaced._

_Hesitated._

_Old habits were hard to break._

 

* * *

 

Valar, the day was hot! The dozen Dwarves who would wait for the antelope to be driven towards them had the luxury of keeping to a slow walk for this bit, but Kíli and I were to learn how to cut antelope out of the herd today, and that meant that we rode out with the other ten drivers at a fair canter. In fairness to the ponies, our dogs, and us, we wouldn’t hold this pace for long, but we needed to get a little distance ahead of the others first. All of us were swathed in headscarves and tunics, but as the sun rose, the heat stifled the flies, and few were in the air. By the time we slowed our pace, the flies were nearly dormant, and the brisk, ever-present breeze allowed us to unbundle a bit. I kept my headscarf on to keep most of my hair off my neck and the dust out of my mouth, but I stripped my tunic – unlike Kíli, I had enough pelt to keep the worst of the sun off my back for an hour or two. Kíli kept his thin tunic on as well as his headscarf, but he rolled up his sleeves to give himself a little relief.

While we walked, Jiri explained to Kíli and me how we’d work to cut a goodly number of antelope from the main herd. There were a dozen of us, six with herding dogs and six with wolfhounds. We had more wolfhounds than herding dogs, of course, given the penchant for so many young dogs to trail Kíli despite his best efforts, and despite what’d happened to Arvazr. Jiri split us into two equal groups. One group would go roughly west, and the other would go roughly east, until maybe a mile or more separated us. Then the western group would angle northeast, and the eastern group would angle northwest, spacing out so that when the groups met, we formed a wide semicircle. The antelope to the south of us would then be cut off from the main herd, and we’d drive them towards the dozen of us waiting still farther south. When the drivers met the waiters, we’d form a circle to trap the antelope, and then we’d take only many as we needed for the next few days. As meat spoiled so fast in the heat, we wouldn’t be greedy – better to hunt more often and be able to use the meat, than take too many and risk some of them going to waste.

I hoped only antelope died during this hunt, and neither dog nor Dwarf.

After a long, baking ride, Jiri played us out. Kíli and his flight of dogs were in the western group; Rinnala and I were in the eastern one. At first, we rode very slowly, and kept the dogs near. Antelope knew us as predators, and moved away quickly when we approached. Only a very long, slow approach would keep the small beasts from moving out of reach. Jiri was in my group, and when he told me to hold my ground. I dismounted to tend to necessities, then angled my pony roughly south. I stayed on the ground, close by my pony – the idea was to trick the antelope into thinking my pony was just a pony, and that a Dwarf didn’t stand beside him. Of course, they were smarter than that, but maybe the grazers thought they’d be safe as long as I wasn’t mounted. I stayed on the shadier side of my pony, trying to get a little relief from the heat, and so did Rinnala. In this brief free moment, I unwrapped a bit of my headscarf and wrapped it over my mouth and nose against the dust that the drive and hunt would stir up. My pony made the most of the pause, too, nibbling at the browning grass while we waited for the shouts that would signal the start to the drive.

Would I hear the shouts? It was nearly silent around me as even the insects sought a respite from the heat. Rinnala’s panting was nearly silent, for the steady breeze carried the faint sounds away. My poor queen’s eyes were nearly shut as the heat encouraged her to sleep. Her fur was so pale, which helped mitigate the heat; with their black coats, poor Mhornar and Alabrin must feel the heat so much more, just as Kíli did –

“Ai-ai-ai-ai-ai-ai-ai!”

The drive was on!

I scrambled aback my pony, but I didn’t urge him to speed just yet. I waited for the first sight of the drivers who’d gone on when I’d stopped – yes, there was Barkhuzi! I shouted to Rinnala and my pony, and we sped off towards the southwest, making as much racket as possible. I imitated the others’ high, ululating calls, and waved my bow above my head as they did. Valar, I forgot the heat in the excitement of racing over the grass. There! Antelope sped in alarm at sight of me, and Rinnala raced with the other dogs to drive them into a panic. A few of the small creatures jinked away, but the majority fled right as we wanted them to, straight south. The gap between drivers was swiftly closing, and the dogs darted this way and that to keep the antelope from darting out of our semicircle, and straight towards the dozen Dwarves waiting for them. Yes, there they were, interspersed in a semicircle to match the drivers! I caught a fractured view of Jiri, and his call changed to tell us to begin our wheel. Around we went, spiraling steadily inward, until I spotted dogs and Dwarves tightening the ring around the small grazers. I stopped waving my bow, nocked my first arrow, and at Jiri’s command Rinnala set aside driving for hunting. Valar, the beasts were so much cannier now than they had been just a few weeks earlier! The steppe itself was drier and browner than before, too, which set up a cloud of dust exactly the color of the small beasts’ hides. I had to work hard to place my arrows to bring down the elusive beasts amid so much dust, but I got seven cleanly before Jiri’s call to hold went up. I slowed my pony, and called Rinnala to me. To my relief, she was unhurt, though her deep chest heaved from her efforts, and she looked up at me in relief that the hunt was done.

As my excitement palled, the heat registered anew. I was soaked with sweat, the flying dust had turned to mud on my skin, and my eyes felt gritty and dry. My pony was just as dusty, and blew hard to catch his breath. Valar, what I wouldn’t give to jump into the river! But we had lots of work to do first – no one wanted to be in the middle of butchering our take when the blood flies rose again in another hour or so. Barkhuzi came around to take our ponies, and another Dwarf called to the dogs, and the rest of us set to butchering.

Kíli came out of the dust as filthy as I was, but his smile was wide. He’d enjoyed the excitement, too, and we talked about it as we set to on the carcasses as we’d been taught. After the past weeks of practice, both of us knew exactly how to butcher our take swiftly and cleanly. All told, the hunt had taken about thirty antelope, but despite the heat and the imminent threat of flies, we worked fast.

“This one’s ready for the skins,” Kíli said, tossing the liver, lungs, and heart of the antelope we’d just butchered back into the carcass.

“I’ve got this end,” I agreed, and we carted the meat between us past the skins, tossing the various bits with the similar ones before we laid the dressed meat out with the rest of the carcasses. Yanna was among those tending the skins. Because of the rumors that floated between the tents, I didn’t speak with her, no matter how much I wanted to. I only gave her the briefest and most fraternal of comradely smiles, just as I had the others who worked beside her.

How Yanna might’ve met my smile, I didn’t learn, for more than a few whistles and nudges went around before she reacted. Grins of a fashion accompanied them, but so did a pointed undercurrent of something. Kíli’s eyes flitted to mine at once, full of furtive concern.

Yanna was more pointed, giving an audible sniff as if it were of no consequence. “You’d think Kahgli’s forgotten who I am. Too many ears full of misleading rumors by far.”

“Yah,” Kíli replied in an equally offhand voice. “Forgotten more than that, haven’t they? Just a couple of lads, we are, and far, far from our majority, and just trying to earn our bread, aren’t we? Far too young to have any interest in maids past mooning over them.”

“Valar, Kíli,” I growled as if Kíli’s observation embarrassed me. Given the state of things Kahgli, I wasn’t the least bit embarrassed that Kíli reminded everyone of our youth. “You’re such a brat.”

Kíli made a very childish, very rude noise. That drew a spate of chuckles, which was all to the good. “You’re an arse. You’re barely twenty-four, and I’m not even nineteen yet!”

“You’re the arse, do kro,” I teased back in kind, as if no one were near to hear us snark at each other. “You turned nineteen last month. What, are you having so much fun on the grass that you forgot your own birthday? What a doh kro!”

Kíli’s face spasmed in surprise, then he laughed as gleefully as any bairn caught doing something silly. “Valar, brother, I am! It _was_ my birthday last month, wasn’t it?”

Barkhuzi was within earshot, and he was quick to take up the thread. “Mahal, Kíli! Forgetting your birthday? We can’t let that happen again, can we, lads and lasses?”

That brought a clamor that had nothing of intrigue about it, which was a relief. I hazarded that Yanna felt no differently, because she joined the folk who congratulated Kíli with friendly cheers and slaps on the back. Tension dissipated, and we returned to our tasks. Soon we’d loaded our ponies with the various skins of organ meats, as well as the meat itself still in its hides.

We left nothing but offal on the grass when we headed for home at a brisk trot, trying to reach the tents before the air cooled enough to rouse the flies. All of the folk still by the tents were just as aware of the impending plague as we were, for they hurried out to help as soon as we were within sight. Willing hands urged the ponies bearing the skins of organ meats on towards the tents; those choice bits spoiled quickly, so they’d go immediately on the fire or into stewpots as soon as they were unloaded.

Not even the impending flies could dim my enthusiasm at the prospect of crispy, fried slices of liver and heart as a reward for our hunting efforts.

The rest of us headed some distance downwind of the tents to skin the carcasses. Many of those would go to Vikken for the dogs, and the rest would supplement Kahgli’s supper. I’d wondered why we hadn’t seen the clan salt or smoke any meat against the coming winter so far, but now I understood. Until the flies passed, there was no point to stockpile meat that they’d swarm over, and spoil. Once they were past, winter preparations would begin.

Of course, many of us were well splattered from our efforts. As if the smell of bloody hands, knives, and meat were a draw, the flies began their resurgence. We got the last meat under cover, then everyone made a frantic dash to the river, dogs as well as Dwarves. Clothing scattered everywhere as folk hurried to strip and plunge into the water to wash. Of course, Barkhuzi rallied a trio of Dwarves, me among them, to grab Kíli by his arms and legs and pitch him into the deepest part of the river as a wet birthday present. My brother was well able to swim, but I hazarded that the cool water that defied the flies persuaded him to put off coming ashore. Or maybe he was laughing too hard to make the effort.

“Come in!” some of the Dwarves called to him, but he just laughed the harder.

“ _Skator_ , no!” he called back. “You’ll just throw me in again, and give the flies a chance to bite me when you do! Better I stay out here while they make supper out of you instead of me!”

My brother made so much sense that many of the Dwarves decided to join him, and before long, flies notwithstanding, a mighty water battle ensued. One of the maids splashed so much water at me that I went down laughing and choking with a thump, but as it was all in good fun, I got up to plunge back into the midst of the splashing. The game came to a straggly end when someone from the tents walked out with a basket of rags and soap shards, and a big pot of fly salve. We washed fast against the descending horde of flies, and for the most part avoided their stinging attack. The dogs helped, both herder and wolfhounds, because they’d run into the river with the rest of us, and now waded out to shake clouds of spray from their coats. The barrage was enough to keep most of the flies at bay, though it was hard to get dry with so much water flying. I was still more sodden than not when I pulled on smalls and trews and boots, but the heat was enough that I dried quickly, all but my hair. On with the tunic, then a quick smear of salve over the cloth, and I was ready to see to Rinnala. She looked more drowned rat than dog, but she was cooler, and she stood well enough for my attentions.

“Do you want more for your hair?” Yanna called, holding up the pot of salve.

“In my hair?” I gaped. “That sounds like the best way to make a right foul mess.”

“It’s not,” she assured me, and Barkhuzi nodded agreement as Kíli came up to join us.

“Aye, Fíli, it’s one of the best ways to keep the damned beasties off,” the red-haired Dwarf assured me. But for his clan braid, his plaits were all unwound, and he dipped into the pot to smear a good handful between his palms, then he rubbed it all through his hair. “It keeps your hair untangled, and the smell of the goatsweed deters the flies.”

“I’m for it, then,” Kíli exclaimed, and dipped out a generous handful. “I’d rather smell like a goat’s supper than a fly’s!”

I was quick to follow suit, and it did seem to annoy most of the flies too much to land, at least for now. We collected the rest of our scattered things, called to the dogs, and headed to the tents, where the tantalizing aroma of supper overwhelmed even the reek of an entire pot of goatsweed salve.

 

* * *

 

As I walked with Fíli from the river back to the tents, the scent of all that rich meat sizzling over the communal kitchen fires knotted my stomach. The clan’s rich, meat-heavy diet had eased many of my growing pains of a morn, but it hadn’t dampened my appetite a whit. Such a toothsome smell was enough to drive every other thought out of my head, but once I downed a massive slab of flatbread piled high with crispy bits of liver and slathered with spicy chutney, I wasn’t so single-minded. Mhornar and Alabrin had rested beside me while I’d eaten my snack, so I rewarded their patience by taking them for their supper. I had lots to think about while Fíli and I doled out fresh meat to our hungry dogs, then went back to the communal pots to down the bulk of our meal.

I hadn’t liked the voices that’d made more out of Fíli smiling at Yanna than they should have. Grun wasn’t part of the hunting party, but he hadn’t had to be. I was as sure that he’d been behind those rumbles as I was of my own name.

His influence was spreading fast, and that didn’t bode well for any of us.

I puzzled over what to do about it while I continued to stuff myself full. Organ meats didn’t keep in this heat for long, and they were a rich part of the steppe’s bounty, not to be wasted. So I crammed down every bite I could manage, and so did everyone else. Come winter, rations might be short, and better to put a bit of fat on now against the coming need than not. I had more reason to eat all I could than some of the older Dwarves, as I carried no fat to speak of, and it’d be decades before that changed. Once the flies died back, I needed to resume my rabbit hunting for their furs to line my winter coat. Perhaps an antelope tunic would help, too? I’d ask Cyth for advice before long.

As for what to do about Grun, I didn’t have the first idea...

Hmmm. Maybe I did.

If Grun could start rumors, why couldn’t I?

The possibilities put a grin on my face.

Maybe I could entice Ankulaz to talk to me again, too. I’d ask Barkhuzi if his Taad would put the Urghul heir and me together for some task – maybe bow practice, or riding...

Or dog training. What if Ankulaz grew more familiar with the dogs, even to the point that one of them trusted him enough to choose him? Wouldn’t that be something?

It’d certainly throw a rock into the center of Kahgli’s calm pond, without doubt. The ensuing ripples might change everything.

There was something else... something that kept popping in and out of my thoughts, as elusive as the end of a rainbow, and twice as enticing. Something Ankulaz had said, something I wanted to ask Barkhuzi about...

It eluded me again, but maybe if I found Barkhuzi it’d nudge the end of my rainbow close enough for me to grab it. I looked up from my bowl to scan for my friend, only to meet Fíli’s amused eyes.

“You’ve chewed on something as thoroughly as the dogs did their supper,” he observed with a smile.

I grinned. “Aye, I have. There was something I needed to ask Barkhuzi, but I can’t recall it. Maybe if I see him, I will.”

“He’s there, with the dogs,” Fíli pointed. “Just came in to feed Neyshath a moment or so ago.”

“Good,” I said with satisfaction, and downed my last mouthfuls. “Here I am, lovelies, that’s the last of my meat. Aye, that’s the last of it, yes. It's a good thing I don't suffer as you do from eating too much, isn't it? I'd be even more of a stick than I am now, wouldn't I? Come on, let’s go find Barkhuzi and Neyshath.”

“Come, Rinnala,” Fíli seconded, and we threaded through the other folk busy tending to their hungry dogs. My brother leaned close to me. “Do you want a private word, Kíl? I understand if you do. I can take the dogs out on the grass a bit to rest.”

I blinked in surprise. “What? Oh! No, I thank you for the offer, but this is for your ears, too, brother. Maybe you can help me remember what I wanted to ask. It’s something that’s slipped in and out of mind for days, but I think it’s important.”

I must’ve looked overly thoughtful or serious, because Fíli didn’t tease me about being wooly headed or forgetful. Rather, he merely nodded in support, and fell in beside me as we paced towards Barkhuzi. Our friend had just handed his dog his last bite of supper, and met our approach with a frank expression. He nodded out at the grass where there was more privacy for talk.

“That noise about Fíli and Yanna earlier?” he asked. “Not good.”

“No,” I agreed. “But that isn’t what I wanted to talk about.”

“Something else?” Barkhuzi’s eyebrows twitched in surprise. “What?”

I snorted in disgust. “I can’t remember. Just that I wanted to ask you something... I think about something Ankulaz said...”

“Aye, sounds important, but...” Barkhuzi considered, then shrugged in mystery –

“Khuzi!” Ilka shouted from the tents, holding up a handful of cloth. “I’ve got your tunic!”

“I’ll be right there, Maamr! Thank you!” Our friend grinned as he waved at his mother. He gave Fíli and me a wink. “Sorry, lads, a Maamr’s kindness comes first –”

“That was it!” I blurted, interrupting my friend as my elusive thought settled into mind. “Sorry, Khuzi, I mean no offense, but Ilka’s just reminded me what I wanted to ask you!”

“I’ll get your tunic, Khuzi,” Fíli offered. “You stay and winkle whatever it is out of Kíli before he loses it again.”

“Thank you, Fíli,” we both chorused, and as my brother trotted off with Rinnala at his side, Barkhuzi gave me his full regard.

“So something about Maamr, then, Kil?” Barkhuzi encouraged.

“Not yours, Khuzi – Grun’s. When they fought by the river, did you hear Ankulaz snarl at Grun about his mother?”

“I didn’t,” Barkhuzi shook his head. “What did he say?”

“It was something like, ‘you’re no better than your Maamr, she lied about my father,’ and then something about baiting Kazunki out of spite.”

Barkhuzi’s hum was thoughtful. “Harsh, that. Very harsh. Why did you think to ask me about it?”

“Because you’re part of this grand conspiracy with me and Fíli, and because we’re all worried about Klyn,” I replied. “I told you how Ankulaz said he didn’t remember that fight, yes?”

Barkhuzi nodded. “I do.”

“When I told Ankulaz what he’d said to Grun, he turned white. Straight pale. And that’s what made me think to ask you about it.”

Fíli rejoined us, handing Barkhuzi his tunic. I repeated what I’d said to our friend so Fíli understood, and he looked thoughtful.

“Maybe there was a dispute over succession,” Fíli said slowly. “That’d make so much sense.”

“Now, what?” Barkhuzi asked in confusion.

“You know Kíli and I both have had more schooling about Durin’s line of succession than either of us have ever wanted,” Fíli explained. “Durin may be poor, but succession is part and parcel of every prince’s upbringing. Even Kíli, who tries his best to sleep through that dry stuff, and believe me when I say it’s dry stuff, can likely recite twenty generations of the line.”

“Thirty,” I groaned, despite the seriousness of our conversation.

“It isn’t just the recitation of genealogy that we’re schooled in,” Fíli continued. “Master Balin gets even drier when he relates all the ins and outs of challenges to the succession.”

“Except the dueling part,” I amended. “Some of those are epic.”

“So this might be about... lineage?” Barkhuzi asked dubiously, tugging on his mustaches. “What you call succession, we call lineage? How governance passes from one generation to the next?”

“Yes!” I poked Barkhuzi’s arm in my excitement. “But not Durin’s succession, Khuzi – Urghul’s. What if Ankulaz referred to a challenge to Urghul’s succession, or a slight from a disgruntled branch of the Urghul lineage? Maybe you might’ve heard rumors about it? If you haven’t, maybe your Taad has, because you’re both part of Kahgli’s line. Maybe Merruli’s heard Derfrulia say something about it.”

“Valar, Kíli,” Fíli breathed. “If you’re right, you’ve just explained why Grun’s so intent on keeping Ankulaz isolated.”

“Because if Grun’s not in the lineage proper, he’s there by influence,” Barkhuzi nodded grimly. “‘Valar, Kíli,’ is right.”

“So have you heard anything like that?” I asked.

“I haven’t,” Barkhuzi’s shake of the head was regretful. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t ask Taad about it. If he’s heard anything, he’ll say so.”

“That’d be stellar,” I grinned, and Fíli added his agreement. “Just stellar.”

“I’ll ask him as soon as we have a quiet moment,” our friend assured us. “I’ll specifically ask about any rumors about old boulder Tobazel and his consorts.”

“What did you say?” a nervous voice startled us out of our intent conference. There was Klyn and Kulazhath, coming to join us. “Wh-what about Tobazel and his consorts?”

“It was just something Ankulaz said when he was drunk, _ban-chéile_ ,” Barkhuzi said in a calm, gentle voice. “When he and Grun had their fight by the river.”

“I didn’t hear him say that,” Klyn said warily. “He never said that.”

Our friend turned on his heel and retreated swiftly towards the tents.

No one spoke, but Fíli and Barkhuzi surely mulled the same question I did – were Tobazel and his consorts more important than any of us originally thought?

If they were, how did Klyn know that?


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli and Kíli stand their first night duty during the annual plague of blood flies, and it's as hellish as anyone can imagine.

_Grun watched the Durin heir and his gangrel brother ride off to take part in the usual antelope hunt. It was no accident that neither he nor Ankulaz had been part of the hunt since Kazunki’s death – they were both under suspicion. He didn’t care for himself, as long as Ankulaz was in the depths with him, because Ankulaz lacked the ability to extract himself from the mire. Grun didn’t; a word here and there, and Grun would neatly divert all the suspicion from himself to fall onto Ankulaz, and the heir would be condemned for his cousin’s death._

_How that made Grun smile!_

_A few more words would nudge Kahgli opinions away from their acceptance of the Durin heir, too. He already heard mutterings among the young unattached lads. How easy was it to turn their regard for the Kahgli heir into mistrust of the Durin heir’s intentions?_

_Yes, matters proceeded well._

_It was time to reassert his influence over Ankulaz. He looked for the heir, but he was not to be found. What was this? Had he slunk off without Grun noticing?_

_A few inquiries – well laced with innuendo – revealed that Ankulaz had ridden out with his mentor for his stint on the grass._

_Serpents! Kahgli spent more time on the grass with their herds than the herds did. Greedy bastards, they were, not willing to let the wolves have even a single one of their precious animals. They'd run themselves ragged in days. If only Grun could find some way to turn that exhaustion into ruination!_

_He’d likely be escorted out onto the grass before long. Most of his stints were during the daylight; he was rarely asked to go at night, which suited him well. The fucking flies were bad enough at night that anyone who was smart should stay beside the smudge fires, and let the ponies and goats shift for themselves._

_Before his mentor or anyone else called him to task, he sauntered towards the kitchen fires. At least there was no end of food, and well prepared to boot –_

_“Kupferrot’s looking for you,” a light voice spoke behind him._

_Startled, Grun whirled to find a small Kaghli maid, not much older than a bairn, behind him. She held the hand of a younger lad, and dragged a basket behind them, half full of antelope chips for the fire. A wolfhound trailed behind them, evidently the bairns’ minder._

_Grun snorted. Typical – Kahgli cared so much about their herds that they neglected their brats, leaving their care to the damned magical wolfhounds._

_“If he wants me, let him find me himself,” Grun said brusquely. For all he wanted to shove the children out of his way, he’d learned that no matter how poorly he regarded the Kahgli wolfhounds, the wolfhounds regarded him with equal disgust, and met anything other than rough words with growls and snaps. Raising a hand to the brats would open himself up to attack. Even now, the brown and grey beast glowered at him, as if it knew the depth of his contempt._

_The little maid bit her lip at Grun’s sneering tone, and didn’t wait for Grun to shove past before she drew the lad aside, dragging the basket after them. Grun waited for the dog to circle after the brats before he turned back towards the kitchen fires. But now the haggard matriarch with a serpent’s tongue stood before him, arms akimbo._

_“Wyrtaal did you a kindness. It’s customary to offer thanks for the courtesy,” Cyth observed in a cold voice._

_Grun's shrug was laced with irony, as was his half-smile. “I asked for none, and got none. I understand how Kahgli offers its kindness, never fear.”_

_“Kahli schools its bairns to offer courtesy and cooperation, and so she did. If you expected anything else, then that says more about Urghul’s ways than Kahgli’s.”_

_“And what clan taught you how to lace your words with such barbs?” Grun riposted. “Is that part of Kahgli’s exalted schooling, too?”_

_When Cyth laughed, it was not a pleasant sound. On the surface, it was indulgent and dismissive, as if she answered a bairn. Underneath, it was far more menacing._

_“Barbs within words aren’t all you could teach us about, Grun. Insinuation, rumor, innuendo... they may not be part of Kahgli’s schooling, and they may be subtle, but I know them when I hear them. Make no mistake about that.”_

_Grun knew better than to name the bitch as he did in his thoughts. He schooled his features into a mask of longsuffering endurance that revealed none of his fury. When Kupferrot’s call reached him, he turned away in silence to follow his mentor – as if! – to the brush enclosure to saddle and bridle his pony._

_As he rode out onto the grass, his fury cooled. Then he smiled. The best way to exact revenge for the viper’s words would be to turn her hatred against her and her ilk._

_So many prospects sprang to mind, all worthy of his name._

 

* * *

 

I mulled what Kíli had said to Barkhuzi and me about the epithets Ankulaz had hurled during his drunken outburst. The Valar knew how many Dwarvish feuds had ensued over disputes about succession, but we were not the only race so bedeviled. I hadn’t seen any Elves in person yet, but I knew how they appeared, more or less. From their pictures, they might seem very tall, very grave, and very deliberate, but Master Balin had filled Kíli and me full of tales about all matter of mayhem, even to kin slayings and epic wars, that Elves had inflicted upon themselves in the millennia that had preceded our short lives. They weren’t strangers to intrigue and ambition, and neither were Men – such conflicts were likely universal to all folk, even Orcs and Goblins and Dragons. So to think that such a tale might be part of Urghul’s history was more than plausible.

As compelling as it might be to consider Clan Urghul’s contentious ways, it wasn’t enough to distract me from our impending first night watch during the blood fly plague. It was hard to give Kíli’s ideas the reflection they deserved when faced with an entire night out on the grass where we’d try to mind the herds without offering a meal to the biting hordes. Because of the ordeal we’d face, Drekkani and Arkhanneh would take us out together. They fully expected Kíli and me to spend most of the first night scrambling to survive and unable to focus on the stock, so they’d be along to teach us and guard us, as well as guard the ponies and goats.

For the first time, I didn’t look forward to this lesson, and neither did Kíli. But we hadn’t shirked our duties so far, and we wouldn't now.

We ducked into the family tent long enough to enjoy a few moments of respite under our fly screens, but only to pull on heavier tunics and our riding gloves. We helped each other wrap our headscarves tightly, tucking the bottom edges into our tunics, and wrapping a fold or two over our mouths and noses, leaving only the barest slits for our eyes. Goatsweed salve went on the cloth around our eyes to keep the flies at bay, and more streaks liberally striped our tunics and trews. We anointed our dogs liberally, too. We ventured outside into the late afternoon, commenting on how thick the flies were already. Neither of us bothered to get rations to eat on the grass – anything would be full of flies before it got to our mouths – but we got extra water flasks against the heat, for us as well as the dogs. The young dogs that tended to follow Kíli tried to brave the horde to follow him now, even though Kíli tried his best to get them to stay with Vikken. In the end, the only thing to do was to smear as many of them as would hold still with more salve, and off they trotted behind Rinnala, Alabrin, and Mhornar.

“The flies are too much for you!” Kíli said in exasperation, as he tried to streak salve over a fussing, mottled grey and white dog. “You need this, Rukhsit! If you don’t have it, you’ll be supper on legs!”

“Sit, Rukhsit,” Vikken growled, pushing the young dog’s hindquarters down. “If you’re foolish enough to stand night duty when it’s not asked of you, then let Kíli see to you so that you survive the night!”

“I don’t want him to go,” Kíli said, still exasperated. “He’s too young, but so am I, so I suppose he thinks he doesn’t have to listen to me.”

Vikken chuckled. “You’ll both be experienced past your age before long. The wolves will be too busy fighting the flies to bother us much tonight, and will be for the next three weeks. Better to train our young ones now, for when the flies pass, the wolves will be hungry, and then we’ll need all the experience we can glean.”

“So the flies harry the wolves so badly that they can’t eat?” I summarized.

“That they do,” Drekkani avowed, coming out of the dusk to see why we’d been delayed. “That’s not much consolation when the flies bite, but some. And Vikken’s right – right now, the flies chase us over the grass, all night long. In three weeks, it’ll be us who chase the wolves over the grass, all night long.”

Kíli and I exchanged looks. Summer promised to be the hardest and most exhausting three months of our life so far. But no sooner had I thought that than Rinnala nudged her head under my hand, and gave it a quick lick. Hard and exhausting the summer might be, but I had the best companion in all of Middle Earth to see me through it.

At length, Kíli, Vikken, and I slathered salve on as many dogs as would hold still to let us do it. Not all of them followed my brother and me to the briar enclosure, but it didn’t matter. All the dogs needed the salve to keep the flies at bay whether they stayed by the tents or not, so if we helped Vikken see to a few more than we needed to, we were glad to do so. Wolfhounds were so lean that a single blood fly welt stood out as sharply as a whip weal on their skin, and drove the poor creatures frantic biting at it.

Four of Kíli’s flight trotted after us to meet Arkhanneh at the briar enclosure. There we had another session of salving creatures, this time the ponies we’d ride tonight. Such a reek permeated the air when we were done! I couldn’t imagine how I’d ever fail to register the scent, but I’d been assured over and over that come three weeks from now, I’d be past noticing it, even if someone were to dump a pot of it over my head. Kíli and I fastened our bow rigs to our saddles, checked knives and salve pots and water flasks, added extra canvas and rope and medical supplies, and finally made our way away. At a little distance from the tents, we turned to mark the beacon fire, and found it to be only the larger flame in the dark. Already, smudge fires were lit around the tents and especially by the enclosures for the young and their dams. Then we turned our faces towards the dark, and rode forward.

The overwhelming sensation was of heat. The sun was well down, but the air hadn’t cooled yet, despite the steady breeze. Swaddled as we were in tunics, gloves, trews, heavy boots, and head cloths, we had little way to throw off the heat. The ponies beneath us were well warm, too, so it was as if we sat on pony-sized hot water bottles. But the heat wasn’t our only trial. Of course the flies descended on us in a horde, humming so loudly that it seemed as if the sound came from inside my head. Even well salved, the creatures dove on us incessantly, but at least we offered them little to bite. The poor ponies on the grass, however, weren’t so fortunate. Many were so covered with flies that they seemed to wear a living coat. Their only respite was to keep moving, often at a run, trying to give the flies as hard a target to land on as they could. Now I understood why the ponies seemed so exhausted during the day – how could they not be, when they’d run all night?

“How do we tend them when they don’t stop moving?” I asked in confusion, once I got close to Arkhanneh in the dark.

“There’s little we can do,” the old dam replied. “Urge them towards the river when we can. Make sure no wolf ignores his own misery to take down one of the distracted beasts. The worst danger is from storms – thunder can spook them into an even worse turmoil, and the lightning can set the grass alight. It’s rare to get one of those storms so early, so ask the Valar to keep them away from us tonight.”

“I will,” I agreed, and sent up a silent plea for no storms, unless the Valar could offer one that struck all flies dead and left everything else unscathed.

It was nearly impossible to make out anything in the dark beyond a blurred, nightmarish vision of milling ponies. The beasts’ frantic attempts to run from the flies churned up clouds of dust, and their cries when the flies bit was pitiful to hear. The stir was so chaotic that I didn’t immediately notice how the ponies didn’t run in all directions. No, more and more of them fled towards the river. Kíli, Drekkani, Arkhanneh, and I followed them, if in a bit more controlled fashion, though when one of the flies bit my poor pony on the rump, she threw up her head, then flung it down again to buck hard. One of the furies found a chink in my armor, too, and I wasn’t any less upset about the stinging bite on my thigh than my pony was about the bite on her flanks. I stayed mounted, but I was well tossed by the time my pony got all her hooves back on the grass.

In time, we found ourselves by the river. Even in the dark, without the Moon to light our way, the scene before us was incredible. The shore was packed with frantic ponies wading out into the water to wash off the flies. A rare low spot had been ground into a deep mud wallow, thronged with ponies rolling over with hooves flying, trying to slather themselves with mud too thick for the flies to get through.

To one side of the wallow, a small foal that should’ve been in the birth enclosure by the tents stood stiff-legged, so covered with flies that I couldn’t tell what color it was or whether if was a colt or a filly. Pain and shock had so paralyzed it that it was nearly past protesting, and there was no mare close that might be its dam. If ever I’d doubted the tales I’d heard of flies bleeding a pony to death, I didn’t now. This foal wouldn’t last another hour under such a savage attack.

Before anyone said anything, I was off my pony, salve pot in hand. Kíli was right beside me, and we reached the foal together. It was too weak to shy at us, and we shoveled the feeding pests off its back and flanks with our gloved hands. The pony’s hide was slick with blood and pebbled with welts, but I slathered salve over the back of the poor beast while Kíli scooped both hands full of mud to coat the mite’s legs and belly.

“Stay with it, Kíli,” I said. “I’ll get rope to make a halter for it.”

“I will,” Kíli promised, and I dashed back to my pony, thankfully still standing by the mud wallow. I got the rope, snared Kíli’s pony and mine, and led them back to the suffering foal. With a few twists, I had a makeshift halter to slip over the foal’s ears, and fastened the end of the rope to my pony’s saddle to keep the foal close. Bleating like a hungry goat, it bumped its nose against the belly of my pony, but we had nothing to feed it. At least the flies weren’t attacking it so badly, and the reek of our ponies, dogs, and us kept it huddled close. If we could get it back to the tents alive, maybe wiser folk than we would find a way to feed it.

One pony tended. However many tens or hundreds remained?

 

* * *

 

I had never seen the depths of hell until tonight. How could any beast survive such a plague? How could any of the Valar have created such vicious insects that left nothing but death and devastation behind them? How could –

“Fíli! Kíli! Get back on your ponies! Get back on your ponies NOW!”

That was Arkhanneh, screaming for all she was worth at us. I looked up from the trembling filly that Fíli and I tended to find a wall of writhing, agonized ponies rushing towards us, all shoving and pushing to throw themselves into the river for whatever relief it offered. I scrambled atop my pony just as Fíli did the same, and we drove our way out of the sudden spate of animals lurching towards the water. The noise was incredible! With so many frantic ponies thrashing and dashing, Fíli and I might well have come to harm if Arkhanneh hadn’t warned us. We drew the weakened filly with us out of the fray, where our mentors rushed towards us to deliver a stern lecture about not vaulting willy-nilly off our ponies in the middle of a stampede, never mind that we saved a filly. Such impetuousness might be meant well, but it wasn’t smart.

Much chastened, we gave the filly to Arkhanneh while Drekkani gave us a thorough reprimand.

It was only then that I noticed how many other Dwarves and their dogs ranged up and down both banks of the river, trying to keep the ponies from trampling one another in the rush to the water. Folk had lit smudge fires on both sides of the water, and the more experienced ponies arranged themselves downwind to find some relief. Drekkani told us that damp antelope chips provided the needed smoke. Nearby, a few Dwarves worked on the pony or two that had gotten trampled in the rush, or was weakened as our filly was – yes, there was Arkhanneh handing off our filly to Maaggulmuli for further tending.

“So no more fool rushing about like a pair of night moths!” Drekkani finished off his lecture. “If you see such again, have the sense to take the foal out of the worst of the rush, would you? It does no good to rush in fit to get yourselves trampled as well as the foal!”

“Yes, Drekkani,” Fíli and I replied in chagrin. “We’ll do better next time.”

“See that you do!” Drekkani said with a growl.

“So take the foal out of the rush... how?” Kíli asked plaintively.

“The rope.” Drekkani held up his. “Why do you think you have it? Make a noose to slip over the pony’s head, then lead it out. Stay mounted even if it fights, and let the medics see to it.”

“Yes, Drekkani,” we chorused again, still subdued.

“All right, here comes Arkhanneh. No harm done, now we’ll get back to it, lads. We’ll help along the shore for a bit...”

And off we went. We both had a stint to tend one of the smudge fires, where we learned how to soak an antelope chip so that it smoked thickly when laid on the fire. We both helped to tend the weakest animals beside Maaggulmuli, most of them very young foals. It didn’t matter how busy our mentors kept us, though – to ride up and down the river was hellish duty. All the Dwarves were so muffled in their gear that each one looked like the next. The dogs’ salve-matted coats made them look emaciated and sickly, more specters than alive. I wasn’t afraid of the ghost stories told around the fire of a night, but this was ghastly. It was such a horrible, unending scene of anguish that short of battle, I didn’t expect to see worse throughout my life.

The flies lessened slightly when dawn broke. At least we could see more, and the jostling ponies didn’t look like a seething mass of limbs belonging to some grotesque sea monster. The stink of blood was pervasive, though, as thick as it likely was on any battlefield. I felt as if I’d been through a battle – I was covered in mud, goatsweed salve, sweat, and blood, though thankfully not much of the latter. I stank of the same, as well as the acrid smoke of the smudge fires that had burned all night, and my arms and legs were as heavy as anvils. I was weary to my bones – no battlefield could have seemed any less chaotic, frantic, or dangerous, without a single lull. And hot – Valar, I’d never been so hot!

No matter how hot I was, I couldn’t wait to be hotter, because the morn’s heat would quell the flies. After this night, heat seemed a much less oppressive enemy than blood flies.

Though the flies persisted as the sun rose, they lessened enough that the ponies calmed a bit, or maybe both flies and ponies were as exhausted as I was. I led my stumbling mount along the river again, but this time I discovered no foundering ponies, and no trembling foals being bled dry. All I found were exhausted Dwarves, all well ready to take to their cots for a few hours of rest before the next hellish night fell. One by one, the smudge fires burned out. One by one, Dwarves collected at the river to wash the night’s labors away in the fume of the last smudge fire, and to tend their dogs. Alabrin and Mhornar were as filthy and exhausted as I was, and the young dogs were, too. Valar, I had six dogs to tend, and it was nearly beyond me. But I wouldn’t stint on my care of the loyal beasts, and I found the energy to scrub a few soap shards over their fur, rinse them off, and then coat them in salve. If I hadn’t been so coated in mud from the night’s efforts with the filly, I wouldn’t have spent long cleaning myself. But I was beyond foul, and I managed.

Fíli was just as exhausted as I was, so we spoke but little on the way home. The best thing about the short trip was that the night’s evil visions paled in the rising light of the sun, and I felt calmer. All of the Dwarves were as drained, so we walked slowly. By the time we tended our ponies and cleaned our tack, the dogs were calm enough to feed. Fíli was a lifesaver, helping me to dole meat out to my two dogs and Rinnala, as well as the four young ones. Once they were fed, I fumbled for the words to draw Alabrin and Mhornar after me, and stumbled towards the family tent to find my blankets.

“You need to eat,” Fíli mumbled. “Kíli. Food.”

I paused, and looked towards the outdoor kitchen fires. “Valar, Fíl. I’m too tired to eat.”

“So am I. But you know we’ll have to be out again tonight. We need the nourishment.”

I was too tired to groan with any strength. “ _Skator_ , Fíli. Again?”

“The whole clan was out there, more or less. So it stands to reason that we’d be out again tonight, too.”

I resisted sinking to my knees, or even acknowledging my brother’s words. I followed him to the kitchen pots in silence, because I didn’t have the strength to speak.

I felt better once I’d downed porridge and meat and stew. I felt even better once I’d downed more porridge and meat and stew, so much so that I walked to the family tent without reeling. I kicked off my boots, ducked under our fly screen, and peeled off all of my sodden clothes. Oh, most revered Mahal, not a single fly dove at me. Both of my dogs sighed as if they were just as grateful for the respite, and lay beneath my cot without complaint. I left my filthy clothes in a heap near the outer tent walls, and fell prone onto my cot. Never had it felt more divine to lie flat.

I was asleep before I had another thought.


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kíli's sick of rumor and innuendo, and tries his hand at a little inter-clan diplomacy... reinforced with the stalwart help of Mhornar and Alabrin.

The sun was past her zenith when I came out of the tent. Rinnala was beside me, looking as bedraggled as I felt. No one back in Thorin’s Halls would’ve ever accused me of being finicky about my appearance – except for my hair – but I’d never looked worse than I did now. Despite my perfunctory wash in the river earlier this morn, my trews and tunic were still fouled with mud, goatsweed salve, sweat, and even blood; I was little better. The hair that I’d been so vain about was tied up in a head cloth, which was just as well, because it was an itchy, oily rat’s nest. For the first time, I didn’t miss the foot of mane that Maamr had cut off when I’d left home. It would be little better than a matted snarl, and far from a crowning glory.

As foul as I was, I headed to the necessary to tend to urgent business, then I took Rinnala for her well-deserved breakfast. Most folk about the camp were cleaner than I was, but just as tired, but everyone exchanged greetings well enough. The pervasive weariness stood to reason; at least two-thirds of the folk had spent the night on the grass, trying to help their ponies through the plague. The rest were out and about now – some rode out to provide a bare watch over the ponies, while others tended injured stock, the dogs, or the cooking fires. I greeted Cyth by the cooking fires with a subdued word. Like most folk, she was well swathed in long-sleeved tunic, tough trousers, and a headscarf well tucked into the neck of her tunic. The flies had relented enough that she had dropped the wrap of scarf that covered her mouth and nose.

“Afternoon, Fíli,” the dam nodded, offering a commiserating smile as she ladled stew into my bowl. “I won’t insult you by wishing you a good afternoon – last night was a long duty.”

“At least the flies are down a bit,” I said, pointing up to the sun, “seeing as how it’s just past noon.”

“Aye, we look for the least goodness during these three weeks,” Cyth sighed.

“It’s a miracle that anything survives,” I exhaled.

“It is, that. Most everything goes by the path until the flies pass. See to the stock as best we can, and each other, and the cooking pots. There’s no time for much else.”

“I assume Kíli and I will be out again tonight,” I replied.

“Of course, just as the rest of us,” Cyth nodded, looking at me quizzically. “There’s something that concerns you about that?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” I assured her, “at least no more than it does anyone else. I’m foul, though, and I know I’ll be foul again tonight, but... if I’m not needed for just a few minutes, I’d like to have a good scrub? And see to Rinnala?”

“Oh, aye, now’s the best time to scrub, when the flies are prone to rest. Is Kíli up? Several folk have already made their way to the river before you, but take your brother with you, or someone else, and take your bows to keep watch. Likely the wolves are as weary as we are, but it’s best to keep a sharp eye, and an even sharper arrow in hand.”

“We will,” I assured the dam. “I thank you for the breakfast.”

I moved downwind of the kitchen fires and found a place for Rinnala and me to sit where the smoke wasn’t too acrid and the flies weren’t too pesky, those being relative terms. I ate slowly, glad for the momentary quiet and the company of my pretty queen who lay beside me. I went back to the fires until I was full, then I beckoned to Rinnala and turned towards the family tent to see if Kíli was up and as eager for a bath as I was.

I snickered. Valar, Maamr would be shocked to know that I’d finally gotten myself so dirty that even I was appalled.

 

* * *

 

_“He puts a good face on it, I’ll give him that.”_

_Cyth didn’t deign to look at Maraz, but instead watched Fíli settle with his well-loved dog beside him to eat his stew. As hungry as the young Durin heir was, he still had a loving smile and a gentle caress for his beautiful queen before he spooned up his stew. And how Rinnala stretched her head towards the sky, drinking in the lad’s affection! That was just what Cyth needed to see this morn, clear evidence that the rumors were baseless, as if anyone could think otherwise. Fíli’s unconscious regard for his dog, a regard that Rinnala so clearly returned, kept Cyth from showing how Maraz’s amusement irritated her._

_“Did you expect otherwise?” she growled._

_“Na, there, dam, don’t twist your hocks in a ground squirrel’s hole. You’ve heard the rumors same as I.”_

_“Rumors hissed from behind the fangs of a snake. Only fools give them credence. Fíli’s only interest is to care for his brother and to serve Kahgli well. He’s done both, and no one can say differently.”_

_“Our Yanna’s always been one to turn the lads’ heads, Cyth. You can’t say differently about that, either.”_

_Cyth turned a sharp eye on the old sire who cut up a side of antelope and tossed the pieces into the stew pot. “Yanna has not asked for such attentions, nor encouraged them. That’s another thing you can’t say differently.”_

_“I can’t.”_

_“You can’t say that Fíli has overstepped himself, either.”_

_“Not that we’ve seen, no.”_

_“If he had, Yanna would not hold silence.”_

_“So what has she said?”_

_Cyth put her arms akimbo. “Nothing, you old fool. About anyone.”_

_“Ah,” Maraz grinned, and offered Cyth a wink, more teasing than insinuating anything... she hoped._

_Cyth snorted. “You love to see the stir.”_

_“I do.” Maraz’s grin was unrepentant. “Gossip is sweet spice out here on the grass, Cyth. You know that. It does no harm.”_

_“This will, because of who roils the pot. Don’t you add to it, old fool. Too much spice in the stew makes for an achy gut.”_

_Unconcerned, the old sire grinned as he tossed another chunk of meat into his pot._

_Cyth looked back at Fíli, and chewed her lip._

 

* * *

 

Ugh, what by all the Valar was that stench? The reek penetrated even my dreams, turning the cloudless steppe sky a nasty brown and scorching the green grass to stubble. No amount of wind dispersed it, and no amount of arm flailing helped – I jerked awake to find my arms still flapping this way and that, even as my dream wisped away, but the stench didn’t relent.

 _Skator_ , what the fucking hell stank to the hills, then?

Fíli! This was some prank of his! Yah, that was it – my brother had thought it’d be funny to fumigate the family tent with a load of wet scat on the hearth fire!

Groaning, I sat up to rub bleary eyes and mutter under my breath. “ _Skator-u_ , you doh kro, for putting wet _dahaut kurvanog_ on the fire –”

My brother wasn’t in the tent, and the fire burned as cleanly as it always did.

Oh, fucking hell... the source of the stench was me.

Ugh, not just me _._ The rumpled pile of discarded clothes heaped beside my cot stank even worse.

I sat up, and picked my tunic out of the heap with ginger fingers. I groaned again, this time in disgust. Crusty skin was bad enough, but my tunic wasn’t fit to bury a rat in. Valar, even Orcs didn’t smell this foul!

As I woke up a bit more, all of last night’s horror rushed back, and I groaned again to recall how I’d gotten this foul.

Hearing me stir roused Mhornar and Alabrin, and they appeared from under my cot looking as disheveled as I did.

“Valar, we make a sad trio this morn, don’t we?” I murmured. “Oh and oh, I don’t care how many flies we have to brave – we’re going to the river straightaway for a scrub even my mother couldn’t fault!”

“Oh, good, you’re awake, and as eager for a scrub as I am,” Fíli called to me from the tent door as he kicked off his boots. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this filthy in my life!”

“I stink so bad that it woke me up,” I confessed. “That’s never happened before.”

My brother snorted in commiseration as he ducked under our fly screens. He hauled his pack onto his cot and rooted through it, finally pulling out clean trews, smalls, and tunic... then he shot me an ambivalent look.

“They’ll just get foul tonight,” Fíli said. “Maybe I should just scrub what I’ve got on. They’ll dry long before I have to stand duty.”

I stretched and yawned, trying not to grimace at the stench. “Yah, that’d be better. No sense in ruining more than one set of clothes during three weeks of blood flies.”

“True,” Fíli agreed. “This set will be nothing but rags by the end.”

I sighed in agreement, then cringed as I pulled on my smalls and fouled trews. Appalling didn’t begin to describe the reek, so I tucked my poor tunic under my arm, then grabbed my pot of goatsweed salve, my comb, and the dogs’ brush. “ _Comys thoyn_ , I smell worse than a horde of Orcs! I’ve got to have a wash!”

“Feed Mhornar and Alabrin first?” Fíli asked.

“Valar, no one will let me near the food, I’m so foul,” I winced. “I’d likely sour anything I so much as look at. Sorry, my beauties – scrub first, then breakfast, yes?”

“Take your bow. Cyth said we still need to watch out at the river,” Fíli advised, grabbing his. I followed suit, then all of us, dogs included, dashed out of the tent.

It was late enough that the sun was almost at her hottest, so blessedly the flies were minimal. While I detoured to the necessary, Fíli kindly visited the kitchen fires to bring me a handful of bread to tide me over while we washed. He got soap and a few rags, too, then off we went to find the Dwarves under the reek.

Our timing was perfect. A lot of folk already waded in the water, scrubbing busily at the grime that was the prevailing characteristic of us all. Waves and greetings met us, which we returned easily. Despite how foul I was, I beckoned to Fíli for his bow.

“You first, brother. I’ll take the first watch.”

“You go first, Kíl. You’re even fouler than I am.”

“That’s no lie, Fíl, but I’ve been this foul all night. It won’t hurt me to wait a few more moments. Go on.”

Fíli didn’t look like he wanted my consideration, but I motioned him on towards the water firmly, no matter how much I wanted to wade into it myself. He put his bow and quiver in my hands, kicked off his boots, and wasted no time wading into the shallows to scrub hard. I winced, so eager was I to join him, but it was right for the heir to precede the spare, and waiting a few moments longer would make my scrub feel all the better. Still, just because I had a few moments to wait didn’t mean that Alabrin and Mhornar had to. Neither of my dogs settled beside me on the bank, but looked at me, then looked at the water, and then looked back at me again.

“Go on,” I grinned. “No need for you to wait on me, my beauties. I’ll watch you from here, yes, I will. Go on.”

Alabrin didn’t wait for me to say more, but dashed into the water with a happy yelp. Mhornar, always the more measured of the pair, gave me a gaping grin before she trotted after her mate. She joined Rinnala and Alabrin for a game of dash and splash that left Fíli sputtering in good-natured amusement.

Old Drogal, one of the senior hunters who watched over Barkhuzi and Klyn’s tent, offered a wave as he waded out of the water and plunked down in his sodden tunic beside me. “Oi, Kíli, you look a right mess! I’ll watch over you and your brother if you want.”

“That’s kind of you, Drogal,” I thanked him. “But Fíli won’t be long, then I can take my wash. We’ve got the dogs to see to, so if you’d watch for us then, I’d be grateful.”

Drogal waved a hand in agreement, so I passed him a piece of the bread Fíli had gotten us, and we munched companionably and watched the dogs cavort. When Rinnala borrowed Alabrin’s favorite trick to bounce her front paws on my brother’s back and knock him into the water, I snickered freely, and so did the Dwarf beside me. Several folk nearby did as well.

“Oi, Rinnala!” teased one of the dams bathing her bairn in the shallows. “Wouldn’t many a maid like to make that trick her own with such a bonny lad?”

Fíli turned bright red from head to toe, and I might’ve kept laughing as heartily as everyone else at the joke if I hadn’t been so worried about Grun and his evil rumors. If we’d been back in Thorin’s Halls, Fíli would’ve riposted with an invitation to any maid willing to try such a trick, but he was as aware of feeding Grun’s rumors as I was, and kept his attention on his queen. The embarrassment on his face stabbed me, because I’d felt it so often before I’d come on the grass.

Valar, my brother had done nothing wrong!

I muttered under my breath, which drew Drogal’s ear.

“Don’t worry, young Kíli,” he consoled, misunderstanding my vehemence. “You’ll have your turn with the maids one day.”

“I don’t want any turn with the maids!” I blurted.

“Ah,” the old greybeard nodded without censure. “The lads, then.”

“What? Oh! Uh, n-not them, either,” I floundered. When he flicked his gaze on me, I shrugged. “I... um, I don’t think I’m old enough to know yet, maybe. But even if I were... Fíli and I know better than to... um, you know. We’re contract hunters, and... a different clan, and there’s... implications. Neither of us wants to get into that.”

Drogal gave me a fatherly pat on my shoulder, which gave me a chance to rally my senses. _Skator_ , I’d wanted to start a rumor, hadn’t I? The chance was right in front of me, and I was too flummoxed to make anything of it!

“That just proves you can’t put stock in those dumb rumors about Fíli and the maids, doesn’t it?” I murmured in a conspiratorial tone, soft enough that only Drogal heard it. I pointed my chin at my brother. “I mean, look at him.”

Drogal’s gaze automatically went to the bedraggled Fíli, his blond hair all in a matted tangle as he tried to scrub soap over the worst stains of his filthy tunic. He was still red and uncomfortable from the maid’s teasing, too, so he looked almost as unprepossessing as I did.

“He’s a good soul, though,” Drogal allowed, putting a good face on it, but he shook his head in seeming mystification at the scatter-brained tendencies of youth.

“Course he is,” I agreed stoutly. “The best brother a Dwarf could have. Everyone knows it. So it stands to reason that someone would take exception, yah? I hear...”

Drogal leaned closer at my tantalizing words. “Yah? What?”

“I don’t talk to maids much,” I admitted. “But I listen, yah? And I heard one say that another said that a certain lad had tried to make a name for himself where it wasn’t welcomed, and was turned down flat. And of course it made that certain lad mad, and how better to spite the maid and everyone else than to sow discontent about a lad who minds his manners?”

“Oh, now that’s low,” Drogal rumbled, giving me a dark look. “Not the first time I’ve seen the likes of that, of course. Happens every few years, usually when we take on new contract hunters or herders. Now and again, one of ‘em will stir up a roil before we can sort it out, but we do sort it out. Not like this time, when all we can do is watch, and sit on our hands because we’re not allowed to sort it out.”

“No?” I asked, widening my eyes innocently.

“No,” Drogal said with disapproving force. “Derfrulia’s tied Kahgli’s hands, requiring us to hold courtesy even where none is due. That means that no one’s sorting anything out with Urghul, because the odds are they’d call foul, and then we’d be stuck with them for more than the three months of fostering required of us. Mahal, I can’t wait for the last day of that! Just another month or so and we’ll be done with them, if we can endure them that long. Urghul can have back their heir and that sodding Grun, and bother us no more.”

My sodden brother waded out of the river to wave at me. He, like the rest of the bathers, had kept on his tunic against the flies, but he wrung out smalls and trews as he came ashore. He looked much cleaner, and his tunic was free of mud and most of the salve. As hot as it was, both he and tunic would dry in less than an hour, but at the moment he left a puddle with every footstep.

“All right brother, it’s your turn! Valar, it feels good to have that mess gone!”

“Yah, you won’t have to ask me twice!” I laid my bow aside, scrambled to my feet, and pulled off my boots. “Here, Drogal’s kindly offered to watch for us once I’m done so we can sort out the dogs. I’ll be quick!”

Fíli tossed me the soap and washrag, and I caught them gladly. It was time to set aside rumors and maneuvering, and make the most of cool, running water and soap. Oh and oh and oh, to peel off filthy trews, smalls, and tunic and let the river take the mud away was a relief. To soap my hair and face was even better. I found a flat rock in the shallows and scrubbed out my tunic, then soaped the rest of me quickly so I could put my tunic back on against the flies. Then I had time to work on my poor muddy trews and smalls, even my boots, without getting so bitten. Most of the carnage was my fault, because I hadn’t thought last night when I’d followed Fíli after the filly by the mud wallow. Tonight I’d stay out of the mud, and tomorrow have only sweat and salve to scrub away. Both of those were easier by far to work out of my clothes.

I grinned to myself, imagining how I’d have to explain to Maamr next spring why this tunic was stubbornly brown rather than its original white.

The harder job would be to explain to her that I wouldn’t come home, but intended to stay on the grass. Even a plague of blood flies couldn’t deter my sense that I’d found my place in the world at last.

 

* * *

 

Kíli finished his scrub, so I waded back in so we could give Alabrin, Mhornar, and Rinnala a thorough wash. Old Drogal stayed with us to chat as we carefully combed the dogs’ coats free of mats and burs, then reapplied the salve to keep the pests off them. Kíli was quick to smear a generous handful of the salve through his hair because it smoothed out tangles so well. It also glossed Kíli’s silky hair until it gleamed in the bright sunlight as my brother brushed it to dry. Once we redid our clan braids, Kíli was more than ready for breakfast, but he insisted on taking Alabrin and Mhornar for theirs first, saying they’d been more than patient with his dire need to wash. We thanked Drogal for watching for us, and went off to fill empty stomachs.

As both Kíli and I would be out on the grass for the night again, we spent the afternoon quietly. We helped Cyth steep the baskets of goatsweed leaves in the big pot of antelope fat to make more salve, for everyone used so much of it each day. Cyth told us that late each morn, a few Dwarves went the short half mile off the flat part of the grass to collect the tough, resinous goatsweed leaves from the wiry plants that grew on the eastern sides of the ridges. The plants grew fast despite the depredations of goats and Dwarves, and each one could spread several feet over the slopes if left alone. Though they grew low to the ground, their roots went deep, which made them perfect to anchor the soil against the sudden storms, so it was important not to take so much of any one plant as to kill it. The trick, one of Cyth’s helpers told us, was to harvest leaves from only a part of each plant, so as not to hamper its growth. The finicky nature of goats’ appetites worked the same way – each goat seemed to nibble only a bit from this shrub, and the next bit from that one, so they never denuded an entire shrub.

Kíli nodded as if that made perfect sense to him, which of course it did – he was so attuned to this world. But it was clear to me that each element of this grassy world depended on the others to survive, too. Even the hated blood flies had their place, from weeding out the sick and the old, to feeding carrion birds, snakes, and lizards.

Maybe the blood flies served a purpose, but why did there have to be so many of them?

Once we picked sticks and so forth from the gathered leaves, we added them to the pot full of melting antelope fat. The trick to make the salve well was to keep the fat at a simmer, never a boil. That released the oils from the needle-like leaves into the fat without cooking them, which kept them at their most potent. I enjoyed tending the big pot, because the flies hated the smell so much that they left every Dwarf and dog within the steam strictly alone. Even the full heat of the sun seemed a small thing to bear without the small black and green pests diving and biting us to distraction.

As the afternoon waned, Kíli and I saw to the dogs’ supper, then our own. We knew a bit more about what to expect with the night’s duty now, but Arkhanneh and Drekkani still chose to take us out together, just to make sure that we wouldn’t do something so foolish as to dive after a distressed animal on foot again. We rode out with our mentors as the sun fell, so that we’d have a chance to survey things before the light vanished. Once we reached the river, they directed us to kindle several of the smudge fires so they’d be smoking before the ponies ran rampant for the water. Maybe we redeemed ourselves in our mentors’ eyes a little, for once we had the fires well going for the attending Dwarves, they took us across the river to range farther northwest. Because the wind blew from that direction, the ponies on the far side of the Lhûn couldn’t smell the smudge fires, which meant they missed the benefit of the smoke. So our job was to range back and forth, looking for any animals in distress in particular, but also urging the ponies to head for the water.

We spent many hours trotting back and forth over the grass. Kíli sang to keep his spirits up, and to tell the ponies that he was among them. I took up the same song, harmonizing when we drew within earshot of each other, which I hoped made Kíli smile as it did me. There was little light away from the river, and the ponies were more spread out on the grass, so the scene wasn’t quite as demonic as it would be by the smudge fires. But the air was still stifling hot, and thick with frantic insects lusting for a meal, and to hear Kíli’s voice bravely singing our homely air was cheering.

Of course, both Kíli and I spent time by the river again, and of course, the scene was just as grimly frantic as it had been last night. But we found no more dying foals, and we stayed out of the mud, and the wolves made no appearance. When dawn came, I was sweaty and dusty, but not overly filthy, and if I was still exhausted, at least I was calmer.

I was learning.

I wasn’t the only Durin who’d learned a few secrets of the grass during the night, as I discovered when I went looking for my brother. I found him sitting atop his pony at the edge of the river, downwind of the last burning smudge fire, standing watch for several Dwarves who bathed hands and faces in the cool water. He’d stuck his riding gloves in his belt, rolled up his tunic sleeves, and unwound the end of his head cloth from over his mouth and nose. He was well dusty, but not nearly as grimy as he’d gotten during last night’s duty. An arrow was nocked on his bow, ready if need required it, but it rested loosely in his hand as he scanned around the bathing Dwarves to take in what happened out on the grass. He sat his pony with unconscious grace, and he looked...

Valar... my little brother had put on muscle since we arrived here. He’d lost the wary hunched posture that’d dogged him when we’d been in Thorin’s Halls, too. Of course, he was weary, and yes, he was young, but...

If Flin, Flor, or even hard, cruel Glimbel, were to see him, they wouldn’t taunt him about the wave in his hair or the length of his bones. In fact, if they were smart, they wouldn’t taunt him about anything at all, but pass him by in meek silence. My brother had a relaxed gravity to him now that filled me with pride, and a definite air of exotic mystery thanks to his clan head cloth and his shaggy steppe pony. He was strong, sure of himself, and confident in his abilities without arrogance.

He was a warrior.

I smothered a smile. Thank the Valar that Uncle Thorin couldn’t see his nephew and second heir right now, or he’d be charging off to Erebor without so much as a blink.

“Oi, Kíli!” I waved, guiding my pony through the stir of too and fro by the riverbank to reach my brother.

Kíli caught sight of me as I unwrapped the end of my head cloth from over my mouth, and his bright smile told me that my mischievous little brother still lived inside the competent warrior. He waved, then pointed to the water.

“Go ahead, if you want a splash,” he invited. “I had mine already.”

“Thank you, brother,” I replied, and passed my reins to Kíli so I could rinse my hands. I felt better with a little cool water on my face, too, so I climbed back atop my pony a bit easier. Drekkani came to fetch me, so I waved to Kíli and followed. Kíli and Arkhanneh caught up to us just moments later, so we walked back towards the tents, listening to our mentors sorting out the night’s watch and what we should have learned. I was proud that neither of us had done anything hare-brained in Kahgli’s eyes during the night, but had weathered the hard duty well.

We paced slowly home, letting Rinnala, Mhornar, and Alabrin rest so that they’d be ready for their breakfast by the time we reached the tents. The third or more of the clan who tended to things during the day was already stirring in anticipation of our arrival. There were Vikken and Klyn and another Dwarf already chopping meat for the dogs, and Cyth and Derfrulia were at the kitchen fires, the former stirring the porridge and the latter the salve. What a statement that was, for the head of the clan to take her turn at even the most mundane of chores. That surely inspired all of Kahgli to better efforts, knowing that the mother of them all worked so hard. Uncle Thorin was just as hard a worker, taking any and all stints as an itinerant blacksmith to provide for Maamr, Kíli and me, as well as to set an example of how one bore even the worst of reversals. Kíli and I had been schooled from birth in the virtues of hard work, as both our Maamr and our uncle embodied nothing less.

Not all clans offered such an example. I couldn’t imagine Urghul’s patriarch, Tobazel, working at much beyond blustering, but as I’d likely seen him at his worst when he’d sparred with Derfrulia, perhaps I did him a disservice. Then again... there was Grun at Ankulaz’s shoulder, whispering to him as they came up to the kitchen fires to fill their bowls. Only Melkor could countenance the venomous ways of Ankulaz’s second, which were an inspiration to no one.

Oh, Valar, there was Yanna coming to tend the kitchen pots with her kin! I had to ride my pony right past her on the way to the briar enclosure, and Grun was right there to make much of anything I did or didn’t do. Without being blatantly obvious, I managed to ride to Kíli’s right side, so he’d be between me and everyone around the kitchen fires. I let Kíli murmur morn greetings to the collection before I added a brief nod in Derfrulia’s direction. Let that pass as enough, I asked the Valar...

But no.

The increasingly common rumble of nudges and near-silent chuckles rose as we rode by. I ignored it and kept my eyes on the briar enclosure as if I were eager to see to my pony and then find my cot. I refused to let my eyes stray to either side, even when we rode close by the Urghul Dwarves.

“Durin’s quick to forget his courtesy,” Grun murmured, as if he spoke only for Ankulaz’s ears, but his voice was loud enough for nearby Dwarves to hear. “Or maybe he wants folk to think he’s interested in lads now, and not maids. Especially not one particular maid.”

I gritted my teeth and gave no sign that I’d heard or cared about Grun’s insinuations.

My brother wasn’t so stoic. Before I could even gape, he’d slid off his saddle and stalked towards the Urghul second with grim intensity. Both of his dogs paced beside him; Mhornar even bared her teeth. So intense was the trio that Grun drew back a step, but Kíli stopped well out of a knife’s reach, and gestured to his dogs to hold beside him. He nodded briefly to Ankulaz, then put the full force of his fiercest glare on Grun.

“You are the most gutless coward out on the grass,” Kíli snarled, thrusting his index finger at the Urghul second. “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t sneak about the camp with a spiteful word here and an insulting insinuation there about my brother. You’d say whatever argument you had to my brother’s face and be done with it. But you have no argument with my brother, do you? You just want to sow trouble, and you’ll say anything to do so.”

“Hold, Kíli,” I urged, as Grun’s eyes nearly bugged from his head and his jaw gaped. “Derfrulia’s required us to extend courtesy.”

Kíli continued to skewer Grun with his fierce glare. “Grun didn’t name Kahgli, did he? The only clan he named was Durin, and I won’t listen to him whisper his filth and not call it what it is. It’s the words of a coward.”

Grun dropped Kíli’s gaze, but only to cast a longsuffering look at Derfrulia. The horse maid’s expression was impassive, but hers was the only one so controlled. Yanna pressed fingers against her lips as if she held herself silent through force of will; Cyth looked hungry and intent, like a vulture anticipating the death that preceded a meal. Most of the other folk were wise enough not to give any blatant sign of their feelings for which Grun might call Kahgli to task. I wasn’t as sensitive to the silent language of stance and expression that revealed what folk thought as Kíli was, but I didn’t need to be – Kahgli was clearly with Kíli.

“He defies your order, Derfrulia,” Grun said with assurance, waving at Kíli. “He wears Kahgli’s clan bead, yet he violates your express order to offer courtesy to Urghul. He’s insulted Ankulaz, and I cry insult on Clan Kahgli.”

“This is not a Kahgli matter, Grun,” Derfrulia countered, putting her arms akimbo. When Grun looked outraged, she said, “What, did you not hear your own words? You made no mention of Kahgli, nor did Kíli. I didn’t hear any insult of Ankulaz or Urghul, either. Did anyone else hear such an insult?”

For whatever reason Ankulaz held silence, and the murmurs running among the Kahgli Dwarves were clearly in the negative.

“But they wear Kahgli’s clan beads as younger sons,” Grun sputtered. “They have to obey your orders –”

“Enough,” Ankulaz growled, if softer than I would’ve liked, but at least he said something. Kíli was smart enough not to gloat, but kept his fierce regard on the Urghul second.

“If Durin chooses to address your ill-advised comments about their own by calling them ill-advised,” Derfrulia said sharply, “then so be it. Kahgli recognizes no insult from Urghul, and Durin has chosen not to call any. It is over.”

I held my breath. Derfrulia had all but handed the way out of the turmoil to Kíli, and I hoped that my brother was wise enough to realize it. If he remained silent, Grun would have nothing to call foul about, and Derfrulia wouldn’t have to extend Urghul’s stay out on the grass past the minimum three months. Thankfully, Kíli remained silent, but he didn’t back away from Grun, either. It wasn’t until Ankulaz tried to pull Grun away that the standoff ended. The Urghul second leaned forward to murmur to Kíli, who murmured back before Ankulaz jerked Grun away with more force. Kíli stood his ground as the Urghuls retreated, and backed up towards his pony only when the pair was out of earshot. He flicked me a glance as he gave both Mhornar and Alabrin an appreciative caress. When I didn’t rebuke him – why would anyone think I would? – he gave me the faintest of satisfied smiles. He took up his pony’s reins, and looked neither right nor left as he resumed his way to the briar enclosure in silence.

Not a sound came from a single Kahgli Dwarf, either, mute testimony to how seriously each and every member took Derfrulia’s insistence to give Urghul no reason to cry foul. But surreptitious smiles were everywhere. Whether by calculation or happy accident, Kíli had managed to tell all of Kahgli how insidious Grun’s whispers were, but without involving Kahgli in a way that Grun could exploit. It was well done, and I was proud of my brother.


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As matters continue to slip through Grun's fingers, he lies low... but for how long?
> 
> That depends on the next step of Fíli and Kíli's plotting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> nar kurvanog = fucking balls (Orcish)

_The Urghul heir’s arm was tight on Grun’s upper arm, brooking no disobedience as he forced Grun away from the gangrel Durin. Fury consumed him so completely that he didn’t think to wrestle his arm out of Ankulaz’s grasp until they were away from anyone to see. He tore himself away with a curse, expecting it to draw a wince from the heir, but to his shock, Ankulaz grabbed his arm again._

_“What have you been saying about the Durin heir?” Ankulaz hissed._

_“Nothing!” Grun spat back. “Not one word!”_

_“Just as saying Fíli pursues Yanna is not one word?”_

_“It’s common knowledge that he seeks her! Everyone knows it! Don’t fault me for repeating what others have said many times before me!”_

_“What should I fault you for, then? Telling me that Derfrulia ordered Kahgli to shun me for my insult to them, when I didn’t, and she didn’t?”_

_“You were drunk! You don’t know what you said!”_

_“Others do, and they’ve seen fit to tell me. You were the liar, not them.”_

_“Who tells you such lies? That gangrel?” Grun snarled. “His tongue is as untrustworthy as the rest of him is!”_

_“What do you call yours? Forked? What purpose does it serve for you to act the serpent? No good purpose!”_

_“What purpose does it serve for you to forget your one ally in this nest of serpents? Kahgli wishes you nothing but a swift and painful death! Without me to guard your back, they would have knifed you a dozen times over!”_

_“Maybe I have given them reason to hate me, and maybe circumstances have misled them as much as they have me,” Ankulaz’s gaze skewered Grun with almost as much fury as the gangrel’s had._

_“You are as fey as the gangrel is,” Grun hissed._

_“If only that were so,” Ankulaz replied._

_“Is he the one who holds your ear now?”_

_Ankulaz squeezed Grun’s arm so hard that Grun drew in his breath. He jerked away from Ankulaz’s grasp, but it left his arm bruised and throbbing. Worse, it drew Ankulaz to cuff him hard, making his ears ring. The heir grabbed his arm again, yanking him close enough to growl softly in his ear._

_“Do not speak another ill word about Kahgli or Durin. You will hold silence about them both. If you do not, then you will find yourself forced to answer many questions, one kinsman to another.”_

_Ankulaz shoved them apart, backed up until he was out of easy knife range, then strode away. Grun was left to grind his teeth in helpless fury, with nothing and no one near on which he could vent his rage._

_Never had anyone defied him so utterly before. It was bad enough that the gangrel Durin had, but Urghul’s wastrel heir had, too, without apology, causing him to lose face in front of the entire benighted Kahgli clan. Fuck the Durin gangrel for daring to call him out, and so cleverly that Kahgli slithered out of any requirement to call him to heel like his demon dogs. Doubly fuck the Durin heir for not calling the gangrel to heel, either. And triply fuck Ankulaz for giving credence to Kahgli and Durin vermin rather than to him!_

_The damned Urghul heir had ordered him to fall silent. So he would. But snakes and wolves were silent when they preyed, and so would he be. He would not let his enemies inflict their humiliation, their travesties, without answer. He would bring devastation and death upon them all – Kahgli, Durin, and Urghul._

_All he had to do was wait for the proper moment._

 

* * *

 

I followed Kíli into the briar enclosure, and drew my pony beside Kíli’s to unsaddle it.

“Well done, Kíl. Very well done.”

“Thank you, Fíli.” Kíli’s bright, pleased smile lit up his face, but he sobered quickly, and leaned close to murmur softly. “It was time someone called that viper to task. As soon as he was fool enough to say Durin and not Kahgli, I knew I had him.”

“That was masterful, yah. So what did Grun say to you at the end?”

Kíli’s smile was grim. “‘You were wise not to call insult, Durin,’ he said.”

“And you said...?”

Kíli’s eyes met mine. “‘Stop lying, and I’ll have no reason to.’”

“Good answer. You called him out, but didn’t answer his threat with another.”

Kíli heaved the saddle off his pony. “I expected the threat. That’s what bullies do to try to cow you. I’m not about to let him. But... yah, both of us better watch our backs closer than ever. Is it any wonder that Klyn won’t venture away from the dogs’ place when he’s not on the grass?”

“I hope he’s just as careful out on the grass,” I said, setting my saddle on the ground to brush my pony’s back clean and dry.

“I’ve watched.” Kíli caught the brush I tossed to him, and bent to brush his pony’s belly clean. “The Urghuls, for whatever reason, don’t serve night duty. They’re out during the day.”

“Maybe it’s easier for Kahgli to keep an eye on them then.”

“Maybe,” Kíli agreed. “When Klyn has day duty, he’s with the dogs, or tending the foals and kids. That’s no accident. Barkhuzi and Merruli must’ve arranged that.”

“Course they did,” I agreed, brushing. “Maybe no one knows Klyn’s secret, but he’s allied by marriage to Kahgli, and Barkhuzi’s in the direct line, so of course Kahgli would protect him.”

Once we turned our ponies loose to wander about the enclosure, we picked up our tack to carry it to the young hunters’ tent for storage. Before we got out of the enclosure, though, Kíli gave me a concerned look.

“Klyn’s smart to stay with the wolfhounds so much,” I said to reassure my brother. “They don’t like Grun, and wouldn’t let him sneak up on Klyn.”

Kíli didn’t look as reassured as I expected, given how many dogs followed him, even in the middle of the plague of flies. “I hope they keep watch over us all, not just Klyn and the bairns.”

“Or you,” I grinned as Kíli let us out of the enclosure, where not just Rinnala, Alabrin, and Mhornar waited for us – at least five other dogs stood up and whuffed when we appeared. “Look at them – you’ve got a cloud of wolfhounds around you every moment of the day and night. No one can get through them.”

Kíli didn’t reply while we cleaned and stored our saddles, pads, and bridles, but he wore a thoughtful expression. How delighted would Master Balin have been if Kíli had ever shown such concentration during any of our lessons? Once we were free from our cleaning chores, and on our way to see to the dog’s breakfast, I leaned close to tease my little brother about his mulling.

“What’re you thinking about so hard? You never looked half so intent even for Master Balin’s most entertaining tales.”

“This isn’t something out of a book, is it?” Kíli said slowly, without the least reproach. In fact, the eyes he turned on me were darkly serious, even wary, and worried.

“What’s not something out of a book?”

Now my brother’s eyes turned impatient. “Grun, Fíli. Grun. He’s a bully, but I think he’s worse than that. The dogs know it, just as you said, so yes, they’ll watch out for all of us. But...”

“But what?” I pressed.

My brother debated something with himself, then put his hands on my arms and touched his forehead to mine. “Promise me you’ll keep Maamr’s eyes in the back of your head, Fíl. I’ve called Grun out, and he’ll strike back. He’s as likely to strike at you, or Yanna, or Klyn, or any of us, so stay on your guard. Don’t rely just on Rinnala to watch your back for you.”

“Valar, brother, you’re dire,” I exclaimed, trying to make light of Kíli’s warning. “Did you get an omen?”

Many of our folk sensed omens, and it was often the more unusually aware folk who did. Master Oin was a regular font of wisdom from the portents he picked up, so it wouldn’t surprise me if my brother’s time on the grass had sharpened his abilities to sense omens, too. But Kíli shook his head.

“I don’t need an omen, Fíl. I know how bullies work. None of them would let me call him a coward in front of his heir and all of his fostering clan, not to mention the king’s clan, without making answer. He’ll bide his time, and strike when we least expect. Don’t let him catch you off your guard. Promise me.”

“I promise,” I said, putting my hand over my heart to reinforce my words. “Just you stay sharp, too, doh kro. I need my eerily fucking second at my side.”

Kíli’s seriousness dissolved into gleeful, if silent, pleasure at my compliments. I clapped him on the arm with hearty enthusiasm, and he grinned from ear to ear as we went to feed our dogs.

Kíli was the best brother ever.

 

* * *

 

Nothing happened for a week.

Eh, nothing out of the ordinary, that is. The plague of biting flies still turned every moment into a painful, bloody trial, and wolves still did their best to add a pony’s blood to the sanguine deluge. Three ponies succumbed to the blood-letting, and a litter of four tiny wolfhound pups remained swathed in Vikken’s tent under netting with their dam because their tender skins were too fragile to brave the flies. The nights were still long, the heat was still unrelenting, and folk still wished for even the least breath of cooler air.

Grun’s retaliation was what didn’t happen.

Oh, he was the face of courtesy now, and he didn’t keep such an apparently tight grip on Ankulaz. He worked long hours to help butcher the dogs’ meat, collect antelope chips for the fires, and stir the vat of goatsweed salve, to the point that a little of the wariness and tension surrounding him eased. A few folk, mostly the youngest lads, spoke to him, if not Yanna or any of her direct kin. That anyone spoke to him at all in the light of what Urghul was supposed to have done spoke volumes about his persuasiveness.

I strained my ears to hear if he’d tried to convince folk I was the bully to call him a coward, but there was no breath of that... yet. Had he had a change of heart to go with his sudden... helpfulness, then?

Fuck that sideways with a pike.

I watched the dogs, and they were no easier with him than I was. If anything, Mhornar was twice as wary about him as before, and wouldn’t go near him in the dog’s area. I respected that; whenever possible, I fed her and Alabrin only when he wasn’t near. I didn’t think Grun would try to poison the dogs, given that he was never alone with the meat, but if he tried to ingratiate himself with the dogs by letting them associate him with their food, I wanted none of that.

Grun would strike sooner or later. After all the bullies I’d endured in Thorin’s Halls, I knew this in my bones. The question was who or what he’d target, not whether he would or not.

If I were honest, I fully expected Grun to strike at Fíli, not me. I had too many doggish allies about me, and even a brave Dwarf wouldn’t dare that many of them. A coward would wait until an unguarded moment, when everyone’s attention was focused elsewhere, strike from a hidden corner at an unrecognized weakness, and then skitter back to that corner.

Fíli was more vulnerable than I was, which is why I warned him to keep his guard up. Rinnala was still young, and as smart as she was, she didn’t have Mhornar’s experience, and she certainly didn’t have my queen’s feral wildness. Fíli wasn’t used to keeping his eyes open as much as I was, either... eh, he was in one way, because he’d looked out for me so often. But he wasn’t as used to watching the bullies on his own account.

Yanna... yah, she was another one for Grun to target, but not because of what I’d said. If a dispute over Urghul clan succession were truth...

Spite might be at work.

I rumbled that around in my head for a good, long while.

Grun might want nothing more than to ruin everything he touched, just because he could. If he couldn’t get himself in the line, then maybe he’d decided to ruin that line...

Or remove obstacles in that line.

That meant Ankulaz might be a target, too.

Valar, I was the worst fucking bastard to even think about such a scheme.

Yet in so many of Master Balin’s tales...

I wouldn’t be the first to think about horrors such as spite and murder, no more than Grun would be the first to commit them.

I needed to talk to Fíli. Maybe he’d agree that I was a fucking bastard, or maybe he’d take me seriously enough to increase his watchfulness. Not that he was inattentive, but...

Fíli was the best brother ever, and not just because he’d looked out for me so often. He was kind, noble, true, and the best companion when it came to pranks. I wanted to do for him as well as he’d done for me.

So I kept working at my impression of eerily fucking second. Not that I had much chance in the middle of the plague of flies, but I did my best. I kept my head cloth on most of the time, because it made me look even taller, and more inscrutable – I didn’t want Grun to think he knew what I was thinking. I kept as many dogs around me as possible, though it made cutting up the dogs’ meat a long, drawn-out affair. I helped Barkhuzi and Merruli with the big horses, just to get the tall mounts used to me.

Mostly, I kept my eyes open, and on Grun whenever I saw him. I didn’t speak, but he knew the weight of my regard.

I stayed right at Fíli’s left shoulder, too, whenever duties allowed me to.

The only deviation from Kahgli’s routine was that the summer provision caravan to their village back in the mountains had to depart in the middle of the fly plague. I took a barrage of teasing that blamed my enormous appetite for single-handedly depleting the sacks of porridge grain and flour. Of course, I bore the brunt of them in good humor, because no one punched or kicked or dunked me in the Lhûn about it, and no one really blamed my appetite for anything. Usually this caravan made its journey before the flies descended, so that we had plenty of fare in case the flies kept the clan from hunting. Sometimes the flies were so bad that the clan couldn’t rely on bringing in enough meat to feed both Dwarves and dogs, so most of what meat came in went to the dogs, and Dwarves made do with bread, and porridge lightly flavored with meat. This year, the flies’ early arrival meant we were about to run out of our staples earlier than expected.

As Derfrulia’s youngest son, Merruli would lead the caravan west to the village, then back again. He’d leave Ilka and Barkhuzi on the grass to see to the stock and any rigging that might be needed. Several younger lads would accompany Merruli to wrangle the caravan ponies, and a few experienced hunters would protect the caravan from wolves and other dangers. They’d travel at night, because keeping a brisk pace would deter the flies, and was easier to sustain during the cooler dark, and then rest during the heat of the day. All told, perhaps two weeks would pass before we’d see the caravan return.

“Yah, Kíli, make sure you don’t eat up two weeks’ worth of porridge in a single day!” I heard.

“Is that a challenge?” I shot back, laughing. “It’s too bad we all can’t eat flies the way fish can! We’d all be as fat as the mountains!”

That got a good laugh, so I was content.

The day dawned when the caravan would leave. I had night duty again, but Fíli and I were on hand to help pack the ponies for the trip, as was our usual habit to help with camp chores whenever we could. Barkhuzi drifted close as we worked, carrying one of the pack harnesses for the pony I groomed.

“Thanks, Khuzi,” I said, as the red-haired Dwarf heaved the harness aback the pony.

“I spoke to Taad about Urghul lineage,” he murmured, shooting me a look over the back of the pony.

On the other side of the pony, I straightened to lock eyes with my friend. “Yah? Anything?”

Barkhuzi looked thoughtful. “We don’t hear much about some of the steppe clans. Mostly from those we have ties to, such as Distin, where I fostered. But several tongues wag a common tale about Tobazel. He’s cast his seed far enough, more out of of appetite than desire for alliance. If he still had Urghul’s original holdings, you might call him a hoarder, but even without them, he’s greedy, grasping, and far from generous. No maid worth her beard would countenance him taking her holdings, which is part of what he requires of a consort. There was some talk of that happening to a pair of maids, but they raised a howl, and not a maid after Ankulaz’s dam has wanted anything to do with him.”

“No wonder Derfrulia’s rejected any attempt at alliance,” I murmured.

“What’re you two whispering about?” Fíli pulled the pony near that he had saddled. When Barkhuzi repeated what he’d told me, Fíli grimaced.

“Did anyone say what happened to the pair of maids who raised the howl?” Fíli asked.

Barkhuzi shrugged. “One was Ankulaz’s dam, and she left once Tobazel lost his holdings when Aunt Helglor died, because much of what he lost had once been hers. Taad knew little of the other. She might’ve stayed with Urghul, or she might’ve left.”

Fíli mulled that. “Any maid who’d stay with Urghul was likely part of Urghul proper, rather than from another clan, and had no holdings for Tobazel to steal. So if Tobazel tried to steal something from a maid who raised a cry over it, then she had holdings to cry about, which means she was likely from another clan, and would’ve left. So maybe there are three maids in question.”

Barkhuzi nodded. “That makes sense, Fíl.”

“So one of the maids who left was Ankulaz’s mother. Did you ask him if either of the other two were Grun’s mother?”

“I did,” Barkhuzi nodded. “Taad didn’t know, but he expected not. The dams generally gather at the spring and fall festivals to boast of their bairns, and in the patriarchal clans, like Urghul, there’s a right lot of bragging about who the sires are. No one’s ever claimed Tobazel as the sire of anyone other than Ankulaz.”

We mulled that until Merruli shouted to us to bring the next ponies along to join the caravan, so we separated to get the next three ready. But in between buckling this strap and fastening that lead rope, I wondered...

Despite how important Durin dams were to our clan, they received little formal mention of their roles in our annals. I’d never understood why. My past experience with being discounted made me wonder how Maamr felt about having such great authority as well as responsibilities to govern Clan Durin, yet rarely getting a mention for it in our clan history. Clan Kahgli was clear about which folk did what, be they sire or dam, when they told their stories by the fire, which was their version of our written annals. But for a clan as patriarchal as Urghul was, how surprising was it that they bragged only about a bairn’s sire?

All that was sure was that Ankulaz was the only son Tobazel had acknowledged. We knew nothing about his mother, or if she’d had other bairns, or if any other dam had had bairns that Tobazel had refused to acknowledge.

Maybe I grasped at water, which ran out of anyone’s hands no matter how hard one tried to hold it. But thinking Grun might be an unrecognized Urghul heir was too perfect a reason for his spite... if it was even spite.

I’d keep my ideas to myself, for now.

I’d keep my guard up, too.

 

* * *

 

Kíli looked after the departing caravan with the inscrutable expression that he wore so often lately. What was my brother thinking about? Not the caravan; no, he still mulled our sinister Urghul Dwarf who’d been on his best behavior ever since Kíli had called him out. I was no more persuaded of Grun’s reformation than my brother was, but as long as Grun behaved himself, there was little either of us could do to expedite a resolution – other than watch each other’s backs as if Orcs were after us. Fortunately, we were well used to such watchfulness, and out on the grass, keeping watch was easier than at home given the flat, empty land. Away from the tents, it was easy to see anyone approach, and near the river we had to keep watch for wolves, anyway. But it was still a pain.

Matters continued to lie dormant for some days after the caravan left. With Merruli gone, Derfrulia took over his task to assign duties; her oldest sons Ferrin and Mulgrum were off at two of the side camps, and senior hunter Azril, younger brother to Jiri and Ilka, was off at the third. Given the thinning ranks during the fly plague, Kíli and I still served the same duty – out on the grass each night. That told me that Derfrulia thought we’d learned enough to keep our heads in the hardest duty, and that she kept us together and away from the Urghuls. It was hard to consider night duty protection against Grun’s retaliation, but that’s what it was, and I tried to keep that in mind every time one of the fucking blood flies raised a welt on my skin.

Kili, of course, wasn’t content to do nothing while we waited for whatever would come. After hearing Barkhuzi’s scraps of gossip about Tobazel, Tobazel’s greed, and the maids’ responses, he wanted to know more.

“How do you expect to get more?” I murmured, as we tried to eat our supper without the addition of stinging flies.

“I’m going to ask Ankulaz,” he murmured back, slapping the fly that had landed on his thigh. He was rewarded with a satisfying smush before the thing tried to bite through his trousers – we’d both given up our thin summer trews for much heavier felted trousers – but another was quick to take its place before Kíli could get his spoon to his mouth.

“Another secretive ambush out on the grass?” I asked.

A pale smile appeared in place of Kíli’s thoughtful expression. “I thought I’d just walk up to him and ask. Who can fault me for trying to make polite conversation?”

I gave Kíli a look. “And no one would think you do so to annoy Grun, would they?”

Kíli’s eyes slid to mine, then back to where they usually were, which was on Grun as he stirred the stew pot. “I don’t want to annoy him. I want to scare the _nar kurvanog_ off him.”

“Kíli –”

“What?” Kíli growled, making no pretense of innocence. “Ankulaz said he wanted to talk to me, so he won’t complain. And you won’t complain, because I’m not breaking Derfrulia’s orders. And if Grun complains... I bet he won’t, not when I have six wolfhounds around Ankulaz and me. He won’t want to be anywhere near us, even to listen to what we talk about.”

“What are you going to do?” I pressed. “Threaten Ankulaz with the dogs if he doesn’t tell you what you want to know?”

Kíli’s eyes went wide in surprise, and he turned a confused look on me. “ _Skator kurvanog_ , Fíli! I won’t threaten anyone!”

“What will you do, then?”

That gleeful smile appeared again, and Kíli smothered a chuckle. “Nothing. I just thought maybe Ankulaz might like a chance to play with my dogs, that’s all.”

I gaped at my brother, who snickered.

“Valar, Fíli, shut your mouth before a dozen flies dive into it.”

“The dogs don’t like Ankulaz,” I protested.

Kíli went back to watching Grun. “They didn’t like Tobazel, and they don’t like Grun. But I’m not sure they feel that way about Ankulaz. Don’t worry; I won’t let the dogs hurt him. Mhornar, Alabrin, and I will make sure the young ones mind.”

I smothered a smile. “Valar, Kíli, if that works, you’ll be brilliant.”

Kíli was so pleased at my compliment that he nearly squeaked like a bairn. “Thank you, brother. We’ll be right by the tents, too, so no one can say I did something I didn’t, and if Ankulaz eases around the dogs, no one can say he didn’t, either.”

“When are you going to do it?” I asked.

“As soon as I spot Ankulaz. Grun’s on stew duty, so he can’t interrupt, so now’s as good a time as any.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Kíli’s expression was embarrassed; he was used to asking me what I wanted him to do, not the other way around.

“I mean it, Kíl. This is a brilliant plan, and I’ve got your back. Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Um, keep an eye on Grun?” my brother asked. “Just so he doesn’t... whatever.”

My nod was firm. “Of course. Rinnala and I will keep watch.”

“Thank you, Fíli,” Kíli nodded. “Oh, look – there he is.”

Indeed, the Urghul heir was approaching the kitchen fires.

“I think I need another bowl of stew,” I prompted my brother with a slight smile. “So you don’t need to pay attendance to me, do you?”

“I don’t,” Kíli grinned, as we touched wrists. “Wish me luck.”

“And then some,” I replied, as I got up and headed to the kitchen pots. Kíli waited a few moments before he got up and beckoned Mhornar and Alabrin after him. Off he strolled, casually directing his path to intercept the Urghul heir.

I couldn’t wait to see what happened.


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kíli and his dogs talk to Ankulaz, and Fíli has a little misadventure with a horse. Both moments are small pebbles that will soon start an avalanche.

I’d gotten used to an entire flight of dogs trailing me whenever I ventured outside of the family tent, but to see six lean wolfhounds behind Alabrin and Mhornar today was an especially welcome sight. I was about to do something openly audacious rather than circumspect, and I wanted all the four-footed support I could gather. Yes, there was Grun cutting up meat in the dog’s place, so he’d see me speak to Ankulaz...

Hmm... where was Klyn? The dog’s place had been his fortress where Grun couldn’t reach him, but I didn’t see him. Was Grun’s sudden desire to help with the dogs’ meat really a ploy to get closer to Klyn?

I couldn’t think about that now, no matter that it was important. I had to keep my focus on the Urghul heir. Once I saw to him, Klyn would have my consideration.

I bided my time as if I stalked the most skittish of game – of course I did, for this was just as much a hunt. With all my dogs around me, I walked slowly out to the grass. Yah, there was Fíli with Rinnala beside him, nodding pleasantly to Ankulaz as he got his bowl of stew. He spoke a word or two as the Urghul heir ladled out his own breakfast, and topped it with several slices of antelope and a handful of biscuits. He had a cup of tea, then another, both beside my brother, then Fíli nodded his farewell and took Rinnala past the kitchen fires, towards the dogs’ area. Ankulaz emptied his cup again, then refilled it before he carried his breakfast away from most folk. Once he settled at the farthest spot where smoke from the kitchen fires still deterred the flies, I snared another biscuit or three, and headed for Ankulaz, who sat alone with his back to the camp. I looped wide so I didn’t come on the heir as a surprise, so he saw me as if I were about to walk by.

“Good morn,” I nodded.

“Good morn,” Ankulaz returned. His expression was wooden, giving me no welcome... but no outright warning, either, so I ignored it. I didn’t ask permission to join him, as that would give him the chance to refuse me. I folded myself down on my crossed legs – if only I could do that as elegantly as even the smallest Kahgli bairn – a comfortable distance away, not directly facing him, which might be seen as a confrontation, but to the side, so I looked out on the grass as Ankulaz did. Then I waved away the flies to sneak a bite of biscuit.

“Valar, I’ve never seen anything like these blood flies,” I ventured, chewing. “Are they as bad up north?”

Ankulaz might be surprised or wary about my appearance, but his eyes were more on the dogs milling around me. They were a bit unsettled at my choice of company, so I patted the grass beside me.

“Settle, you lot. Please, Mhornar? We’ll be up and about things soon enough, won’t we? Let me ease my bones a bit before we go to work, that’s a pretty maid.”

Mhornar settled at my left hip, between Ankulaz and me, then Alabrin settled behind his consort. The other six dogs milled for a bit longer, but a snort from Mhornar soon had them reclining around me, though none ventured too close to Ankulaz. But they all were comfortable, and happy enough to rest for a bit longer after their breakfast, so I turned an expectant look on Ankulaz.

“They come later there, because the land takes longer to warm,” Ankulaz finally replied, spooning up his stew warily.

“Do they last longer than three weeks? I hope not – three weeks is plague enough for anyone, be they Dwarf, pony, or dog.”

“A day or two longer, perhaps,” Ankulaz considered.

“Ugh, but at least it’s not a week longer,” I said. “The goatsweed salve is a blessing. I like the way it smells, but even if it smelled like death and destruction, I’d slather it on. Better to stink than to bleed to death.”

“It is a boon, and worth the effort it takes to make it. Kahgli is lucky to have so much of the plants near to hand. They grow much more sparsely farther north, and we must travel far to harvest it. Farther every year, sadly. My clan takes the whole bush, and they do not regrow quickly.”

My eyebrows went up. “The whole bush? You don’t take only the leaves, and leave the bush?”

“No,” Ankulaz admitted. “But to see how the salve is made here by taking only the leaves... it’s much less wasteful, and the salve is just as strong as what Urghul makes from the whole plant. I had never thought to do such a thing.”

If I talked with anyone else, I’d suggest that he tell his clan about this new method and save themselves a lot of work, but... maybe Ankulaz would take my suggestion as a slight against Urghul, so I merely nodded in understanding.

 _Dahaut_ , diplomacy was a right pain, and right now it was better at obscuring things than clearing them up!

What to say now? I’d been so intent on getting to this point that I hadn’t considered how to keep the conversation going without looking awkward. Fortunately, my flight of wolfhounds came to my rescue. The youngest one, barely older than a puppy, got his jaws on a long antelope thighbone, and gleefully started to nose it about. The next youngest one jumped up to start a playful tussle, full of mock growling and doggish laughter.

Ankulaz stopped eating – his empty spoon hovered over his bowl as he watched the dogs. His expression was tense.

Oh and oh! He thought the dogs were fighting!

“They’re only playing,” I assured him. “See the way their lips curl up just at the corners? If they were fighting, which doesn’t happen often, they’d bare all their teeth, not just the back ones. It’s just a friendly tussle. Here, I’ll settle them.”

I got to my feet to interrupt the dogs. “Such a silly pair you are! Come, Vazraeven, you know you haven’t rested enough after your breakfast to play so hard yet. Rukhsit, drop it, that’s a good maid! Yes, very good! Now come, sit!”

Rukhsit fell in beside me, but her hopeful expression proved how much she wanted another good tussle with the bone. But while I held her end of the bone, Vazraeven still had his jaws tightly clenched on the other end, unwilling to give up his toy. I pointed to the ground just beside Ankulaz.

“Down, Rukhsit. Down. Ankulaz will sit with you for a bit, won’t he? Just put your hand on her flank, would you, Ankulaz? That’ll tell her that she needs to stay by you, and that’ll give me a chance to settle Vazraeven.”

I got the bone away from Vazraeven fast enough that if Ankulaz bolted, I’d be able to settle Rukhsit before she got upset. But while the Urghul Dwarf didn’t bolt, he didn’t look comfortable, either, so I plunked down on the other side of Rukhsit.

“All right, Vazraeven, you lie down, too. Yes, down. It isn’t time to play yet. Soon, I promise. There, that’s good. Very good, both of you!”

“They’re not very magical, are they?” I looked to Ankulaz as if I commiserated. “Except for Mhornar and Alabrin, this lot is young and silly, just bairns.”

Ankulaz held his ground, even spooned up another mouthful of stew, but he still looked edgy.

“Just relax,” I murmured to Ankulaz. “Wolfhounds are like ponies, aren’t they? If you’re tense, they wonder why. Then they get tense, and then you’ve got a problem. But if you’re easy with them, then they’re easy with you. And if Kahgli’s wolfhounds are easy with you, then the rest of Kahgli is, too.”

Ankulaz’s eyes snapped to mine. I tried not to grin too widely, but it was hard to resist.

“ _Dahaut_ , don’t tell me that you’d turn down a chance to twit that second of yours, as well as consternate the entire Kahgli clan? This is gold, yah? Just stroke Rukhsit’s shoulder a bit, not too hard. She likes that. Then sit back and watch everyone goggle at us.”

I winked at Ankulaz as I would Fíli, and we were about to pull off the week’s best prank. Then I looked down at Rukhsit, then back at him, and rubbed the exact spot that the silly dog liked best.

“Go on,” I mouthed, still smiling perversely.

He did it. He actually touched Rukhsit’s flank, even though he looked like he was sure the dog would bite him, and ventured the tiniest of rubs.

“Perfect – yah, like that. Look at her – see how she smiles?”

“Her fur is softer than a herding dog’s,” he murmured, rubbing with a bit more assurance.

“Is it? I’ve never petted a herding dog. Haven’t had the chance yet, but I expect that’ll change soon enough. Yah, Rukhsit, you like that, yes?”

Ankulaz didn’t have to know that if given her choice, Rukhsit might not sit so close to the Urghul heir, but she was a glutton for rubs, and would sit next to Melkor Himself if that demented creature would stroke her back. I smothered a triumphant grin, because both dog and Dwarf were entirely too tentative for anyone to claim that they’d forged a rapport. But I still felt as proud as if I really had pulled off the week’s best prank.

Eh, maybe I had. If a prank were defined by how much consternation it caused, then just getting Ankulaz to touch a Kahgli wolfhound without the wolfhound protesting was one of the best pranks I’d ever pulled. All sorts of folk had stopped what they were doing to gape at us. I didn’t see Grun in the dogs’ area, but if he saw us, I hoped his heart threatened to stop.

“ _Skator_ , yah, look at them gawk,” I whispered. “We’ve given them something to think about.”

Ankulaz cut me another sharp, sidewise look, bridling as if I’d insulted him.

“I’m not pranking you, so don’t knot your trews in a twist,” I countered. “In case Grun’s ever let you forget, I’m the gangrel Dwarf who’s the second heir of Clan Durin, and I know a few things about political maneuvering. There’s something not right about whatever’s between Clan Kahgli and Clan Urghul, and it’s going to get someone hurt. I don’t want it to be my brother, of course, but I don’t want it to be anyone else, either. Dwarves have too many enemies in Middle Earth to be at each other’s throats, don’t we? So since no one’s taken the obvious path to talk things out and clear the air, I’ve had to be more devious to sort this out.”

“And who gave you authority to sort anything out, especially things that don’t concern you?”

I gave Ankulaz an exasperated look, but he didn’t seem angry, exactly... then I remembered that Fíli had told me that Ankulaz seemed mired in protocol.

“ _Authority_ is what’s gotten you here,” I shot back. “What, do you _like_ being ostracized? Do you _like_ someone whispering venom into your ears? Do you _like_ wondering when and if someone will slip Derfrulia’s cautions and lash out at you?”

The Urghul heir swallowed, so I’d scored a point, but he wasn’t ready to concede yet. “This isn’t your battle.”

“I told you before – if my brother’s at risk, then it _is_ my battle. I love my brother, and I’d be at his shoulder even if it weren’t my duty to be there. Clan Kahgli’s treated me far better than Thorin’s Halls has, and I love it here, so I don’t want to see them hurt, either. And you don’t seem to be what I’ve been told at all, so I’m not inclined to wish evil on you, either. So I have three good reasons to stick my nose in this.

“No, my mistake – I have four good reasons.” I nodded at Rukhsit, who remained beside Ankulaz without concern. The heir was still absently stroking her flank. “At least one of the wolfhounds thinks a bit more kindly of you. She wouldn’t if you were a fucking bastard.”

“You are an imp,” Ankulaz growled.

“My mother would agree with you, and so would my uncle,” I shrugged, flashing a bit of a perverse grin before I hid it away. “But don’t look askance at an imp now that he’s given Clan Kahgli a reason to think twice about you, because now we’ve got a little more time to sort this out. Are you imp enough to help me, or do I have to do it all myself?”

Ankulaz gave me such a hard, daunting, glowering stare that I nearly quailed. But I stared back as evenly as I could, even when Mhornar came to silently growl at my back.

“Mhornar, please,” I asked, never dropping my eyes from Ankulaz’s. “This is important.”

My queen poked her nose into the back of my head cloth, but from the sounds she sat behind me, still watchful but not so overtly worried. A restless thread went through all of the dogs, but died with a single whuff from Mhornar. For a long moment, the only sound was the persistent buzzing of flies trying to steal a meal.

Ankulaz let out his breath slowly as he looked away. “What if I did all that Kahgli thinks I did?” he asked lowly. “I don’t remember. I’m told I’m wrathful when I’m drunk.”

“Do you think you did what they said?”

“No.” His response was immediate and hard. “I had no reason to, so why would I?”

“To save your lands from auction?”

“They’d already been auctioned.” Ankulaz restlessly crumbled his last biscuit between his fingers. “Helglor hadn’t reached her majority, and hadn’t signed the agreement, so killing her served no purpose because it didn’t change the agreement. Stealing the agreement only to alter it served no purpose, either, because it was clear that it’d been altered, which meant that Urghul had to forfeit our lands. When the two clans who stood to gain from the changes refused the lands, the lands went to auction a second time, where they brought less than they had the first time. Kahgli lost their heir, yes, but Urghul lost even more – lands, reputation, and alliances.”

“So who stood to gain from Urghul’s losses?”

This time, Ankulaz’s sigh hissed like a scalding teapot, revealing glum frustration. “If I had an acre for every time I’d pondered that over the last twenty-five years, I would own half of Middle Earth.”

I hummed in commiseration. “Master Balin – he’s my uncle’s counselor, and tutor to Fíli and me – has many a tale about the intrigues that swirl around succession, lineage, all that. If I had an acre for every wrangle that arose about inheritances and birthrights in his tales, I’d own the other half of Middle Earth beside you. Maybe there’s a tangle to be found here?”

Ankulaz’s jaw clenched, and his glare was hot enough to char my skin. “What do you know?”

“Nothing!” I hissed back. “Nothing! But it’s the obvious question, isn’t it? Valar, you have the thinnest skin on the grass!”

“And you bite as persistently as a horde of blood flies.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I shot back. “Look, I don’t know what the answer is – the only one who can answer that is you. Maybe there’s nothing. But you’re the one who yelled at Grun about his mother, so my question stands. If there’s nothing to it, well and good. If there is...”

I got another sharp stare, but there seemed to be less heat than consideration behind it.

I shrugged. “Just think about it, yah?”

Maybe I got the slightest of nods. Maybe I didn’t. But the tightness in Ankulaz’s shoulders loosened, and his gaze dropped from me to Rukhsit, and he caressed her ears without so much trepidation.

Fíli appeared in my peripheral vision. He was still near the dogs’ area, and Grun was scowling at him. At any second, he’d dodge around my brother and head right for Ankulaz.

It was time for me to slide out of reach.

“Oh and oh, we’ve attracted the wrong kind of attention at last,” I murmured. “I’ll take my leave. Just one more thing, Ankulaz – if Grun tries to give you another load of fucking shit about Kahgli’s demon wolfhounds, then you’ll know he’s got something behind his back. He wants you to be afraid of them, because if you’re afraid, they won’t come near you, and then Kahgli’s got even more reason to be suspicious of you.”

I rose as smoothly from my cross-legged position as I could manage, and maybe I was more fluid than I had been the previous hundred times I’d attempted it. Mhornar and Alabrin were right with me, and the young dogs were quick to follow – except for Rukhsit. She lingered a moment to soak up a bit more of Ankulaz’s rubbing, so I grinned and offered the Urghul heir a wink.

“Not so magical at all,” I said, as Grun got away from Fíli and drove straight for Ankulaz. As I passed the Urghul second, I kept my expression inscrutable and offered a bland good morn.

I wasn’t surprised that I got only a glare in reply, but I was well content.

“Thanks for delaying him as long as you did,” I murmured as Fíli and Rinnala joined me.

Fíli’s smile was satisfied. “Did you learn anything?”

“He’s stuck on protocol as you said, but maybe I planted a few seeds,” I allowed, looking back at the two Urghuls. “He called me an imp.”

My brother snorted. “He doesn’t know the half of it.”

“He doesn’t,” I chortled. “But he didn’t bolt, and he didn’t shout me down, and for that he can call me anything he wants.”

“I call you the most audacious brother ever,” Fíli declared, which made me grin like a silly bairn. “Valar, you even got him to pet one of the dogs!”

“Rukhsit’s a glutton for anyone’s hand,” I confessed, “but that’s neither here nor there. The important part is that the Urghul heir petted a Kahgli wolfhound, and kept his hand in the doing. Let Kahgli think about that for a while.”

“Cyth was none too delighted about it,” Fíli revealed.

“I’d hoped she’d see it better than that, but I didn’t expect otherwise,” I grimaced.

“Old lore dies hard,” Fíli exhaled.

“Harder than Orcs.” My smile got the best of me, and I had to stare at the ground to keep from revealing my glee to anyone past my brother. “Valar, this must count for something, yah? Consternating an entire clan in one go?”

“Half of them are at the side camps or part of the caravan. More than half,” Fíli snorted, but his grin waxed as wide as mine until he, too, had to stare at the ground. “Still, it was a good effort. One of your best pranks ever, and it wasn’t even a prank.”

I snuck a look back at Ankulaz, which sobered my silly grin. His second had hunkered down next to him, looking very solicitous, but Ankulaz got to his feet at once and headed away. Grun hurried after him, but Ankulaz wanted no part of his company, and growled something at his second. I couldn’t hear what the two said, but sharp words must have been part of it, because Grun stopped short while Ankulaz went on without him. Grun stared after Ankulaz, but the heir didn’t look back.

When Grun’s gaze fell on me, it was mostly impassive, but for the eyes. If I’d thought Ankulaz’s gaze would char my skin, then Grun’s would burn me straight through and leave nothing but ashes behind.

“We’re in it now,” Fíli murmured, recognizing Grun’s look for the venom it was.

“Yah, we are,” I agreed. “But we’re not in it alone. Look at the dogs.”

Mhornar, Alabrin, and Rinnala were with us, and so were my flight of silly bairns. Even the young ones looked at Grun until he turned away, but once he did so, most of them started their capering. Even Rinnala joined their cavorting.

Mhornar, with Alabrin at her shoulder, didn’t, and I was of like mind.

More than ever, Fíli and I needed to be on our guard, even if Grun wasn’t within sight. Sooner rather than later, he’d find a random, unguarded moment, and he’d strike.

The only uncertainty was whom he’d strike first.

 

* * *

 

_Shaking with fury, Grun stared after the cursed Urghul heir. Not a word did the bastard allow him before striding away. No chance to name the dark Durin the gangrel he was, or the cursed wolf dogs the demons they were. No chance to cast a sinister light on the Kahgli matriarch’s actions._

_No chance._

_Everything was about to slip through his hands._

_He needed that moment, that singular moment when he’d pay Urghul, Kahgli, and Durin the coin they deserved._

_Especially Durin._

 

* * *

“Was Klyn with the dogs?” Kíli asked suddenly.

I gave him a mystified frown. “Was he what?”

“Was he with the dogs? Where Grun was?”

I thought back, and shook my head. “I didn’t see him.”

Kíli grunted under his breath.

“Why?” I asked, but as soon as I’d asked, I understood. “Oh and oh, because Klyn’s stayed with the dogs to avoid Grun, but now that Grun’s there...”

“Yah,” Kíli nodded. “Maybe Grun’s getting desperate, so he’s trying to get to Klyn for whatever reason.”

“We need to warn him, and Barkhuzi, too,” I said, casting about for Klyn. “I don’t see him. Maybe he’s still out on the grass?”

“I don’t know,” Kíli murmured. “But there’s Khuzi. We need to tell him to keep a close watch on Klyn – don’t give Grun the chance to come on him unawares.”

“Or alone,” I agreed. “Come on.”

We hastened to Barkhuzi’s side, but we didn’t have to say much before Barkhuzi nodded grimly.

“Yah, I thought the same thing,” our friend admitted. “I was worried enough to tell Klyn so, and ask him again what scared him so. He didn’t say more than he has all along, but he didn’t have to speak for me to know that Grun’s sudden interest in helping with the dogs was a threat.”

“Could Derfrulia send him out of harms way, to one of the side camps?” I asked.

“I suggested that, too, weeks ago.” Barkhuzi pulled his mustaches, looking both disconsolate and frustrated. “But he wouldn’t go. I don’t know why – it’s the easiest answer, isn’t it? I hate to be apart from him, but I’d do it if it kept him out of Grun’s path until the Urghuls’ time is up.”

Kíli thought about that, but shook his head, unable to reconcile the apparent contradictions. I was no more enlightened, either, nor was Barkhuzi – frustrating, indeed. We vowed to keep our most careful guard for ourselves as well as our friends.

Both Kíli and I remained on night duty, but it wasn’t our way to spend the time between early afternoon and supper doing nothing. Hot it might be, but the flies were at their lowest ebb for the day, and there was no lack of work to do. With Merruli and so many lads gone with the caravan, the big horses needed exercising in the worst way, so Barkhuzi, Kíli, and I decided to give three of them a brief run.

Barkhuzi, of course, put Kíli on Lathga with an eye to the upcoming fall festival. I took Orrud, my usual choice. Barkhuzi had the fractious Drunskaud, the clan’s oldest horse sire; he hated the plague of flies most of all the horses, and wasn’t the best at letting anyone coat him with salve to keep them away. But he needed exercise, and as fractious as he was, Barkhuzi was usually well able to handle him. We wouldn’t be out with them for long, just enough to let them work their lungs a bit, and keep their legs strong. With three of us working together, we got even the irritable Drunskaud well salved and saddled, and out we went.

I almost forgot the heat and the flies as we flew across the grass with our dogs racing behind us, for the horses were eager to stretch out for a race. We tucked our legs up high in the stirrups, crouching over the withers of our mounts to give them the easiest burden, the least resistance to full out flight. Normally, Orrud couldn’t compete with Lathga for speed, but given how hot it was, neither none of us let the horses run themselves to sickness, so they were evenly matched. Barkhuzi kept Drunskaud a little farther from Kíli and me, in case he chose to lash out at Lathga and Orrud. But all three of the horses kept their hooves on the ground until we eased them from their almost-headlong gallop. As we slowed, our dogs wheeled around us, tails flying high, and tongues lolling.

“Valar, that was fun!” Kíli caroled, laughing as he thumped Lathga’s neck in exuberant praise for the stallion’s efforts. “Good, Lathga! I can’t wait for cooler weather when I can let you run as fast as you want!

“Yah, that’s the best,” Barkhuzi laughed, wiping the end of his head cloth across his sweaty forehead. “It’s too hot to keep running even as slowly as we did, so we’ll have a slower ride back to the tents than we had going out. But it doesn’t have to be a dull trip, unless you want it to be.”

No Dwarf lad or lass could resist such a teasing invitation, and Kíli and I proved it by loudly proclaiming just how much we didn’t want a boring ride home. With an approving whoop, Barkhuzi kicked his feet out of his stirrups, and boosted himself up to stand atop Drunskaud.

“Come on, lads! You know how to stand atop a pony, so this isn’t so hard. And we’ll keep these lads at a walk, so come on!”

Kíli and I were both atop our mounts in a split moment. We’d both gotten comfortable balancing atop ponies, but a horse was so much taller that it seemed we’d become giants.

“Valar, the ground’s a long way away,” I snorted. “This must be what it’s like to be Man-sized!”

“Are they this tall?” Kíli wondered, as Lathga craned his head around to see what the foolish Dwarf atop him was up to. “I thought Elves were taller.”

“I saw an Elf once,” Barkhuzi informed us. When we clamored to know the particulars, he grinned and settled to his tale. “Yah, it was when I fostered with Clan Distin for the leather work and rigging. Distin’s south and west of here, and trades with some of the Teleri Elves near their Havens for leather. I went with my foster clan to meet an Elvish caravan carrying some of that leather. Tall the caravan master was, with eyes the color of the sea and hair as pale as clouds. He was taller than any Man by far, even the Dúnedain.”

Kíli and I exclaimed at the idea of anyone so tall, which lent an exotic note to a trio of Dwarvish lads playing atop their horses. We bantered back and forth as the horses paced slowly home, and enjoyed the far view that standing so high granted us. It didn’t take much to joke about being able to see all the way to the Blue Mountains from our perch, which wasn’t true today. On a crisp autumn day when the air was as clear as ice, though, the joke would be truth –

Drunskaud shied without warning.

I had just time to see a rabbit scrabble from between his hooves before he careened towards Orrud. Barkhuzi went tumbling, and Orrud went flibbity as he tried to dash out of the way. Kíli managed to fall back into his saddle when Lathga jinked to the side, but I wasn’t so lucky, and down I went with Barkhuzi. Orrud’s front hoof caught me hard on the knee, which hurt so much that for several seconds all I saw were flashes of bright light.

Orrud didn’t go far; the snorting Drunskaud darted off, but Kíli was right after him. By the time he was back with the flighty stallion in tow, Barkhuzi and I had helped each other to our feet. The red-haired Dwarf had a sprained ankle, and my knee was too painful to bear my weight, so we were a sad pair. While Kíli stood watch with his bow to the ready, I knotted some rags around Barkhuzi’s ankle to keep it from swelling so much, and he did the same for my knee. He boosted me back atop Orrud, then he hauled himself aboard Drunskaud. There was no more silliness as we paced home, for with only one of us completely hale, we’d be hard pressed to handle any more trouble that would put us off our horses. We dared to urge the stallions to a slow trot to get us home faster, and despite how badly that made my knee throb, I made no complaint.

As soon as we reached the tents, Barkhuzi steered us to Maaggulmuli; Kíli led the three stallions away as the healer saw to my friend and me. Barkhuzi’s ankle was sprained, but Kheluz set him right with some heavier strapping. Orrud’s hoof had done more damage, and my knee was swollen enough to earn me a bonebreak poultice under my strapping.

“Aye, you’ll miss night duty tonight, and maybe tomorrow as well,” Maaggulmuli told me as he slathered his herbs over the purple and black bruises, then bound my knee with linen strips. “Stay off it tonight so the swelling goes down.”

“How badly are they hurt?” Derfrulia had made her way over to us in time to hear only the end of Maaggulmuli’s pronouncement.

“Barkhuzi sprained his ankle, but I’ve strapped it well, so he’s still fit. Fíli will be fine in a day or two,” the healer replied. “Got kicked right on the bone, so it swelled just as you’d expect. Nothing’s torn or broken that I can see.”

The horse maid hummed in concern, flicking me a glance as she stroked Rinnala’s ears. “Where’s Kíli?”

“He’s fine,” I assured her. “He took our horses to see to them.”

“Is he alone?”

Oh and oh, was Derfrulia as worried about my brother being alone as I was? I tried to put a good face on it, for the horse maid as well as me. “He’s got Lathga, Orrud, and Drunskaud with him, and Mhornar and Alabrin, and at least half a dozen of the young dogs, too. He’ll be all right.”

Derfrulia turned her gaze on Kheluz. “Lend a Dwarvish pair of eyes to Kíli’s flight, would you?”

“Of course,” the junior medic nodded. As he trotted after my brother, Derfrulia returned her gaze to Barkhuzi and me.

“What happened?”

“Just Drunskaud being an ass,” Barkhuzi shrugged without concern. “A rabbit ran under his feet, he tried to fly away like a bird and pitched me off to crash into Orrud, who tried to get out of the way and so pitched Fíli. It wouldn’t have been anything if Orrud hadn’t kicked Fíli on the way down.”

“And not one bit of high spirits came into play, I’m sure,” Derfrulia gave her grandson and me a penetrating look. “Most days, I’d give you both a fond smile and that’d be the end of it. But you’ve left us short, what with the caravan gone and the flies calling for so many on night watch to keep the herd settled, Khuzi. I expected you to be more... measured until the flies ease and the caravan returns.”

“I’m sorry, Grandmother,” Barkhuzi said, looking properly penitent. “I was on Drunskaud, so it was my fault. I take responsibility.”

“I can still help,” I ventured, wanting to help my friend deflect Derfrulia’s censure. “I can tend the beacon fire tonight easily enough. That’ll let you send one of the other tenders on the grass in my place.”

“That’s good of you to offer, Fíli,” Derfrulia nodded, though her eyes still looked reprovingly at my friend. “See that you stay off your knee as much as you can, but yes, if you can watch the beacon fire tonight, that’ll ease duty for the rest of us.”

“I’m still fit,” Kíli said, hastening forward amid a cloud of bouncy wolfhounds. “I can still take my turn, Derfrulia. And Fíli heals fast. He won’t be lame for long.”

“I’ll let Maaggulmuli be the judge of that, but I thank you for the assurance, Kíli,” Derfrulia gave my brother a firm nod. “Now, help him back to the family tent, so you’re both well rested before the night’s duty.”

“I will,” Kíli nodded vigorously, as Derfrulia gave Maaggulmuli a nod before she went on her way. Kíli looked back to Barkhuzi and me with concern.

“Just wrenches and sprains, I hope?” Kíli asked, glancing at the healer. “You’ll both be fit soon?”

“Yah, nothing terrible,” Barkhuzi sniffed. “Won’t keep me off the grass tonight.”

“I’ll be set right in a day or two,” I assured my brother. “I won’t have a lick of trouble tending the night beacon, either.”

“Here.” Maaggulmuli handed simple crutches to my friend and me. Mine was nothing but a stout stick for the shaft, fitted with another crosswise at the top and padded with scraps of old leather and cloth. “Khuzi, you won’t feel much different in the saddle with all that strapping, but you use this to get around the camp today. Fíli, it’s more important that you keep as much weight off your knee as possible, and don’t bend it much unless you want to stiffen the joint. Use your crutch even just to take a step or two. Stay on your cot with your leg up until your duty, then sit as much as you can while you tend the fire. Put the fuel basket beside you, so you can just pitch the chips into the flames as you need. I’ll see how you knee looks tomorrow, about noon.”

“I’ll do as you say,” I murmured, and Barkhuzi echoed my words. Kíli helped Barkhuzi to his feet, then they both hauled me up. Valar, even standing up made my knee pound all the harder, so I was quick to put the crutch under my arm and let Kíli steady me as we paced slowly away.

“Come in,” Kíli offered Barkhuzi, when we reached the family tent. “You can keep Fíli company while I see to the dogs. I’ll feed Neyshath, too, if he’ll take the meat from me.”

“Mahal, Kíl, that’ll leave you with ten dogs to feed and groom!” Barkhuzi protested.

“I don’t mind,” Kíli shrugged. “You’d both do the same for me, and there will surely be someone at the dogs’ area that’ll help with the bairns.”

“Not Grun,” both Barkhuzi and I said in unwitting chorus. As he and I gave each other a wry look, Kíli snorted.

“Fuck that,” he growled. “You should know me better than to think I'd do something so stupid.”

“Aye, we do,” Barkhuzi agreed.

“So I’ll see to them. Meat and grooming. Once I’m done, I’ll stop at the kitchen fires and get us all something to eat.”

“Thanks, Kíli,” I accepted, and looked down at Rinnala close at my side. When she looked up at me, I gave her a reassuring caress. “Rinnala, go with Kíli. He’ll see to your meat. Go with Kíli.”

“I don’t know if Neyshath will go with you, Kíli,” our friend said dubiously. “I’ve never tried to get him to attend anyone else.”

“We can try.” Kíli stooped beside Barkhuzi’s dog and gave him a friendly caress. “Come, Neyshath. Meat. Come get your meat.”

“Yes, that’s right, Neyshath,” Barkhuzi gave his dog a slight push towards Kíli. “No, it’s not forever, my brave one. Just for your meat. Go with Kíli.”

Kíli drew away, still beckoning to Barkhuzi’s dog, and when Rinnala trotted after him, Neyshath tentatively followed, casting a look back at Barkhuzi as he did so. Our friend called encouragement, and so the dog trailed after Kíli and the other dogs. We stood looking after my brother in the middle of so many cavorting dogs.

“Mahal, he’s got a horde,” Barkhuzi shook his head. “I’ve never seen the like, outside of Vikken, of course. Even Klyn doesn’t have so many trooping around him.”

“That’s my brother,” I said with a proud smile. “So come in. I can even offer you a sip of arkhi if you want it.”

Barkhuzi laughed. “I’d like that. Ilka makes the brew in your tent, and she’s got more sense about it than a lot of the lads. No chance of Mahal knows what sneaking into her brew!”

Barkhuzi hobbled over to the ubiquitous skin and tilted it up to squirt a stream into his mouth. It went down with evident relish.

“You?” Barkhuzi offered.

I hesitated. Arkhi was fermented, just as beer was, so maybe it’d dull my throbbing knee, just as beer would. I shrugged agreement, Barkhuzi passed me the skin, and I tilted it up to dribble a bit into my mouth.

Bloody fucking hellllllllllll...

It was the worst stuff I’d ever tasted, and it was all I could do not to spit it far and wide. I swallowed fast, but the aftertaste was even nastier than the first taste.

“Good, yah?” Barkhuzi gave me a thump on my back. “That’s prime.”

“Prime,” I mustered a grin, and pointed into the tent. Valar, I hoped with all of my being that Cyth had left something edible on the hearth, so I could vanquish the nasty sickness out of my mouth. Never again would a knee, elbow, back, or head hurt so much as to tempt me to ease it with arkhi!

Kíli made quick work of the dogs, though it didn’t seem so given the nasty taste in my mouth. There wasn’t a scrap of food at the hearth, so I had to suffer, though Barkhuzi was clearly not so troubled. We talked until Kíli came back with Klyn in tow. Both of them were laden with food. My brother had found Klyn when he’d taken the dogs in hand, and had been quick to tell him about Barkhuzi’s ankle and my knee. Klyn had kindly offered to help Kili with his ten charges, so they’d dashed to the river for a quick splash, gotten them all groomed and salved, and brought them back up for their meat. When the dogs had eaten their rations, Kíli and Klyn raided the kitchen fires for our supper, and brought back platters piled high for the four of us to eat in the family tent. We could have eaten at the hearth, but the flies had begun their nightly rise, so we left the dogs at the hearth and crammed the four of us into our space. Under the fly screens, we had a merry time without having to swat away a dozen pests with each mouthful.

The festivities didn’t last too long, given that all of us would stand some sort of duty tonight. But Kíli and I took out our fiddles to play a few airs while we waited for the dogs’ meals to settle. It was a heartening sound after so much worry over flies and Dwarvish serpents, and even if my fingers were barely limber before we had to put our fiddles back in their packs, I was glad we’d made the effort. Kíli carried me piggyback from the tent to the beacon fire, and Klyn tagged behind with my crutch as he lent Barkhuzi a shoulder.

“Peaceful night,” I wished my three comrades, as Kíli helped me sit by the beacon fire. Hassen had already kindled the flames, so we settled on either side of the fuel basket and waved as Kíli, Klyn, and Barkhuzi headed for the pony enclosure to begin their sojourn on the grass.

“Peaceful night!” my brother and friends chorused in reply, and faded into the gloom.

I wished I were going with them.

 

* * *

 

The night passed much more slowly tending the beacon fire than it did riding among the herd. It took almost no effort to keep the flames supplied with fuel, and there was little to do other than to stare into the flames, which could quickly lull anyone to sleep if they weren’t careful. That was the main reason why two Dwarves always watched the fire together – to guard against sleep. Hassen was a decent fellow, if gossipy, but we had a companionable time together, once I sidetracked his teasing me about Yanna. Here was one Dwarf who had bought Grun’s insinuations with every coin in his box, and there was little to be done to dissuade him. I played more ignorant of the doings between maids and lads than I was, which gave me the prime chance to pretend to ask Hassen for advice about such things. Some of those tales were mythical at best and outrageous at worst, but it gave me something to snicker about. Fortunately, his experiences weren’t extensive, so we could turn to other topics. He’d been a time or two on the caravan to the clan’s mountain village, so I learned quite a lot about how to work a caravan, and even more about the village. Maybe I’d be lucky enough to see it one day.

As dawn came, we let the fire die, and Hassan helped me hobble to the dogs’ area where I gave Rinnala her breakfast, then I used my crutch to hobble to the kitchen fires for my own breakfast. Then I was happy to take my rest. Rinnala was content to settle underneath my cot, and we both fell asleep quickly.

When I woke, Kíli was asleep beside me. My knee felt much hardier, and it wasn’t so swollen, but I still was careful to use my crutch to get myself out of the tent. On to breakfast, Rinnala’s first and then mine – Cyth did offer me a cordial greeting and ask after my knee, so maybe she’d forgiven Kíli for talking to Ankulaz – then I found Maaggulmuli as he’d directed me to.

“Aye, it’s much improved,” the healer decided, once he’d poked and prodded. “You can sit a horse well enough for light duty today, but we’ll hold off night duty until at least tomorrow. You tell Derfrulia that, and she’ll set you right.”

“I will, and thank you,” I replied, as the healer put the last knot in the bindings around my knee. I had a new bonebreak poultice to encourage the bones and such to ease, and more linen strapping to keep my knee from moving too much. It was almost comfortable to walk on, so I could dispense with the crutch, but I got a firm lecture about the evils of too much walking about.

“Stay a-ponyback as much as possible,” Maaggulmuli urged. “That’ll keep you from working it too hard too soon.”

“I will,” I repeated, stroking Rinnala’s ears. “You’ll keep me straight, my beauty, won’t you?”

“See that you do,” Maaggulmuli gave my queen a grin and a quick head rub. “You’re smarter than most young Dwarves, aren’t you?”

Rinnala’s smug look had both the healer and I laughing, for clearly Rinnala agreed with Maaggulmuli’s assessment of youthful Dwarvish sense. I waved a farewell, then I looked for Derfrulia to tell her I was fit for service again, albeit with limitations. I found her by the kitchen fires.

“Fíli!” Derfrulia called when I waved to her. “Your knee is better, I see!”

“It is,” I nodded. “Maaggulmuli said I’m fit for light day duty today, as much aback a pony as possible, and night duty tomorrow. So I’m ready for whatever you need me to do today.”

“Excellent,” the horse maid smiled in satisfaction. “I’m glad you’ve suffered no lasting damage. You and your brother are stout stock.”

I grinned. “I don’t think Kíli will be stout for at least twenty years, and me for maybe ten, but we’re both tough, yah.”

That gained me a chuckle. “True enough. All right, we need to stock the fuel for the fires near the Lhûn. Have you fed Rinnala?”

“I have. She should keep to a walk for an hour or so, but then she’ll be safe to run.”

“Good. I’ll send out the bairns to fill the baskets. You and Rinnala can watch over them, then ferry the baskets to the river.”

“Yes, Derfrulia. I’ll saddle a pony, and be ready right after.”

“Good lad,” the horse maid gave me a satisfied nod, setting her heavy copper earrings into motion. “The bairns will wait for you by the briars.”

Rinnala and I paced slowly back to the family tent so I could get my bow, blades, gloves, and another head cloth. Kíli wasn’t there, so he was likely feeding his horde of dogs. Indeed, by the time I saddled and bridled my pony and let her out of the enclosure, Kili came running with his dogs trotting along behind.

“You’re going out on the grass?” he asked me anxiously, looking at my leg.

“Yah, Maaggulmuli says he won’t have to chop off my leg after all,” I grinned.

My brother snorted a laugh. “Lucky you.”

“Course I am. I have to stay aback a pony today and not walk much, so I’m to escort the bairns to fill the fuel baskets, then cart the baskets to the river so the fires will have enough fuel tonight.”

“A serious duty,” Kíli snickered. “Who’s going with you?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Someone, especially to the river. That’s Kahgli’s way.”

“I’ll go with you,” Kíli said, already heading for the briars to fetch a pony. “To make sure.”

“You’ve got night duty again, Kíl. I’ve got this.”

Kíli’s eyes darted around. “I’m still going. I’ll sleep tomorrow.”

“You know Kahgli doesn’t let the bairns out past sight of the tents, and someone’s always with them. Dogs, usually, too. And you know Derfrulia won’t let me or anyone else escort even baskets of shit to the Lhûn alone. At least one other Dwarf will go, too.”

“Yah, that one other Dwarf will be me, doh kro.”

“Kíli, stop.”

My brother turned a stubborn, militant frown on me, and his jaw tightened. “Don’t be a doh kro, Fíli.”

“I’m not. I can watch over a few bairns within sight of the tents. Rinnala will be with me, too. It’ll be fine.”

“I won’t let you go to the river by yourself,” he growled.

“Course not. If Derfrulia doesn’t send someone with me, then, yah, you can come.”

Kíli hummed, only slightly mollified. “All right. But whether I come or not, I’m sending most of the young dogs with you. I won’t need them around the tents, and you’ll be back before I go out on the grass tonight.”

“They won’t follow me, Kíli.”

“Yes, they will.” He glowered at me before turning back to his flight. “All right, you lot. Mhornar, Alabrin, down. That’s right, good, both of you! The rest of you, come, that’s right, you, too, Rukhsit, even you, pretty maid. Guard Fíli. Fíli, yes? Stay with Fíli when he goes out on the grass. Yes, you, too, Vazraeven – Fíli. Guard Fíli.”

My brother backed away, and gestured Mhornar and Alabrin to follow him. When the other dogs made to follow, he repeated his request that they stay with me. It was a mark of the dogs’ respect for Kíli that they drew close to me and stayed there, no matter how they looked back at their favorite Dwarf.

“Yes, that’s right, that’s perfect, all of you! Very good!” Kíli praised them. “Stay with Fíli out on the grass, yes? Don’t let him out of your sight. Keep Fíli safe. Guard Fíli, yes!”

Kíli gave one last critical look over the six dogs sitting beside my pony and me and crossed his arms over his chest to nod in satisfaction. “There. See? They’ll stay with you, and Rinnala will keep them in line.”

“Then I’ll be as safe as any Dwarf on the grass,” I grinned. “Thank you, brother.”

Kíli nodded soberly. “All right, off with you. And just you keep your eyes open, and don’t leave all the work to yon pretty dogs.”

“I hear and obey,” I gave Kíli a bow that was only a trifle silly. I was quite touched that he’d bestowed his entire flight on me, even just for a trip to the river and back.

“See that you do,” he teased back, but his smile didn’t extend to his eyes. “I’ll see you before I go out tonight.”

“I’ll see you out,” I assured him. “You keep your eyes open, too.”

“All three of us will,” he returned, a hand on each of his dogs. “Here, I’ll give you a leg up.”

Kíli helped me atop my pony, and stood back as six of the youngest Kahgli bairns straggled towards me with baskets in hand. The eldest led a pack pony to carry the filled baskets. We headed out to fill those baskets surrounded by eight regal wolfhounds – Rinnala, Kíli’s six, and another older male who usually oversaw such expeditions. He was no longer the fastest, and his muzzle was hoary with white, but he loved the bairns and was still a fierce protector. Kíli watched us go for some moments, then he turned back to Mhornar and Alabrin and whatever task was his for the afternoon.

As I expected, no wolves or snakes, Dwarvish or otherwise, bothered the bairns as they piled the dried chips into the eight baskets. The wolfhounds and I kept careful watch until the last basket was full. Even the bright sun beating down over the grass wasn’t enough to suppress the bairns’ urge to race the dogs back to the tents, and I trotted along behind with Rinnala, cheered to hear their happy laughter. They reached the tents out of breath and trailing ends of head cloths and tunic ties as all small bairns do. Of course, Cyth had a platter of biscuits ready for them, and as I was not much older than they, I had a handful, too.

I made a ginger dash to the necessary, but I was back atop my pony shortly after to lead the pack pony laden with antelope chips to the Lhûn. Hassen would be my fellow escort, so we set out with bows at the ready. Hannen’s wolfhound Tangitt and Rinnala ranged ahead of us as we paced over the grass with the pack pony between us.

We’d gotten maybe halfway to the river when the soft thump of a pony’s hooves sounded behind us.

It was Yanna, astride her spotted pony, and with one of the unattached dogs keeping pace beside her.

I managed to keep my jaw from dropping, and my lips from spreading wide in delight. It’d been an age since we’d exchanged words, and no matter what Hassen might make of it, I was happy to see her.

“I’m glad to catch you,” Yanna breathed. “I’m out to relieve Numolkhuzi. He’s been out since dawn, so we can watch for each other if we go together.”

I suspected that Yanna’s explanation wasn’t as simple as it seemed. After so many weeks, of course I knew that no one ventured far on the grass alone, and didn’t need to be reminded of it. Perhaps the reminder was for the gossipy Hassen, so he didn’t make much of Yanna and me being within speaking voice of each other. That worthy Dwarf looked between Yanna and me, grinned to himself, and touched the side of his nose. I didn’t dare speak, so when Yanna fell in beside us with Hassen between us, we continued on our way in silence.

I suspect that all three of us had more than enough to think about.

We reached the river before anyone chose to speak. Yanna broke the silence first.

“There’s Numolkhuzi. Peaceful duty, Hassen, Fíli.”

“Peaceful duty,” we wished her, as Yanna urged Shar forward with her attending dog close behind. Numolkhuzi was perhaps a quarter mile upriver, so as soon as his arm went up to wave a greeting to Yanna, Hassen and I gave up our watch on the Kahgli heir, and concerned ourselves with antelope chips.

The first smudge fire site wasn’t attended during the day, so we merely dumped two baskets of chips beside the fire ring, and moved a half mile down the river to the find the next one. The two Dwarves attending it greeted us with cheerful grins, took three of the remaining baskets, and emptied them beside the fire pit. They sent us on our way with many a jeer about how flies and wolves were more shit than antelope shit was, which made me laugh. Then we retraced our path back up the river, to deliver our last three baskets to the fire pit where Yanna had replaced Numolkhuzi.

We found the fire pit easily enough, but neither Numolkhuzi nor Yanna was to be found.

“That’s not right,” I said, as Hassen scanned the horizon. “Do you see them?”

“I don’t. Simka, either. He was standing with Numolkhuzi,” Hassen shook his head. “Let’s give a yell.”

We sent the names of the three Dwarves echoing over the grass, but without result. As far as the eye could see, ponies were the only creatures that stirred over the grass.

“Come on,” Hassen beckoned me. “There’s a nasty bit of mire just a bit farther on. It’s grabbed its share of unwary beasties, be they Dwarf, dog, or pony. That’s the obvious place to look first. Keep your bow to hand, Fíli. If something’s mired, the wolves will be out.”

I nocked an arrow, loosened my sword in her sheath at my side, and called the dogs to full attention. As we made our wary way towards the mire, the dogs crept forward just as cautiously, but Hassen stopped us short before we got within sight of it.

“It’s just beyond that tangle of briars,” Hassen advised. “We can’t go charging through it, or we’ll founder our ponies. Better to circle it, and see if anything’s trapped there. It slopes away from us, towards the north, so if we approach to the southeast and southwest, we’ll drive off any wolves to the north rather than towards most of the herd.”

“Makes sense,” I agreed. “I’ll take southwest.”

“Done. Just keep your eyes about you.”

“You, too,” I agreed, and signaled the dogs to circle to the left. Hassen crept right with his dog, and within a few moments faded around the other side of the briars.

I held my pony still, straining my ears for any sound, but even the hoof beats of Hassen’s pony had faded to nothing. I heard no sound of struggles, nor calls for help, nor even the sound of birds or insects. The very silence had my hackles up. I gestured the dogs to range ahead of me as we circled the underbrush, then ventured a few steps closer. The ground beneath us wasn’t yet swampy, so I took a few more steps closer –

A sudden flurry of struggle thrashed through the underbrush, then fell silent.

My bow was at the ready. All I needed was a target.

Two of the dogs growled, then Rinnala barked, the first time I’d ever heard her do so –

Something struck me hard, just above the collarbone, so hard that I fell out of my saddle. As my pony skittered away, I landed hard, smacking the back of my head on the hard-packed ground, but that wasn’t what flooded me with agony.

An arrow protruded from my shoulder.

Rinnala snarled in fury, and launched herself away from me. She wasn’t the only dog I heard – the air seemed full of snarls and growls. One dog shrieked as if wounded. So did another. I fought to get off my back, to grip my sword –

A hand seized me by my hair, and something smashed into the back of my head.

Everything exploded into stars.

A moment later, the stars went black.


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a dark menace stoops closer, Kíli is frantic. Where is his brother?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> kurksog reguurz vraz thrug = crucify the lying murderer (Orcish)

Fíli and Hassen headed for the river with the laden pack pony in tow. I was gratified to see that all six of the wolfhound bairns stuck to their duty and followed Rinnala and Tangitt, rather than cavort around me. Valar, it felt strange to have only Alabrin and Mhornar at my side, but they looked at each other as if they were glad to see the young ones dash elsewhere for a while. They looked so like a pair of harried parents that I laughed, and made much of them, just petting and caressing and playing tug-the-rag with an old piece of canvas. When they’d had enough time to digest their meat, we went looking for something to do.

Valar, I understood why Derfrulia had been so concerned about Barkhuzi and Fíli’s injuries – look at how few folk were about! Many were likely still sleeping after their night stint on the grass, and most of those who were left were with the herd now. Vikken was with the dogs, but a young maid was with him, not Klyn or Grun. Cyth was at the pots, tending more of the salve, but only Maraz was with her. I didn’t see Ankulaz, either, or Yanna, or Drekkani, or Arkhanneh. Where was everyone?

I scanned the sky, wondering if a storm were nigh, which had put more people out on the grass during the day, but it was clear. This didn’t seem right, not right at all...

Then I spotted several folk coming back from the river. Ah, that was it – they’d taken the moment to bathe, that was all. All was well.

I snorted. I was just as flibbity as Drunskaud this morn, and much too hasty to worry. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

 

* * *

 

Dimly, dimly, sensations filtered back into my head. _Dahaut_ , my head hurt! It couldn’t have hurt any more if a master smith smacked me with a hammer, over and over and over again. He couldn’t even find a regular rhythm of his smacking, either, which would at least have let me anticipate it, and brace for it. But no, it was an irregular, impatient tattoo he beat on my skull...

Oh.

It wasn’t a smith with a hammer at all.

It was my head, bumping over the uneven ground.

There was a rope on my ankle, and it dragged me across the ground. My other leg caught over and over on this and that, twisting underneath me, which wrenched my sore knee over and over. With each wrench, I became a little more aware of where I was. I was behind a pony, and a lot of dogs were barking, and –

I was dragged into the river.

Water poured down my throat in a torrent, sending me into spasms. I struggled furiously to get my head up, but failed.

I was about to drown.

I fought. I fought hard.

Blackness took me.

When I came to, I lay on the riverbank, more in the water than out, and heaving up the water that’d filled my lungs. I nearly passed out again as my retching and gasping turned my shoulder into fiery agony, but no sooner had I found my breath again than canvas went over my head. I couldn’t see the boot that kicked in my ribs, then planted itself on my chest –

The arrow in my shoulder was torn out with a hard jerk. I screamed, but hands hauled me into the water again, holding me down –

The blackness took me again.

When I came to, I was still on the bank, just high enough that the water didn’t reach my face. Once again, I heaved up all the water that had poured into lungs and stomach. Once again, every spasm sent blinding pain shooting from my shoulder across my chest and down my arm. It was all I could do to keep body and spirit together as I coughed and coughed and coughed.

I passed out again.

I was still on the riverbank. Not much time had passed, because my hair and clothes were still soaked and dripping –

My clothes?

My boots were gone, and so was my head cloth.

So were my trews, smalls, socks.

All I had on was my tunic.

I tried to roll over, but jarred my shoulder hard enough to make me pass out again.

When I saw the sun again, I felt for the arrow in my shoulder.

The arrow was gone.

A knife was in its place.

Was I hallucinating?

I fumbled to my knees and forced myself to look around.

Nothing.

No one.

Where was Rinnala?

Hassen?

Hassen’s dog?

Kíli’s dogs?

Nothing.

“Rinnala!” I forced myself to call. “Nala! Where are you, Rinnala?”

Nothing.

I got to my feet, swaying for long moments before I had to drop to my knees again. The grass and the sky whirled around me in a dizzying blur.

I had to get up. Yanna and Numolkhuzi had been missing before I’d taken the arrow, and now Hassen and eight dogs were, too. It wasn’t far from where I’d fallen back to the tents. I could stagger that far. I could.

When I got to my feet to take my bearings, though...

I wasn’t where I thought I was.

Was I on the other side of the river?

I was on the other side of the river.

I sank to my knees again.

I got to my feet again.

I left the knife in my shoulder. The wound wasn’t bleeding much, and as long as I kept the steel in it, that would stay true. Better to have Maaggulmuli take it out by his fire, so if it spurted too much, he’d cauterize it before I bled to death.

I staggered a few steps. Valar, where were Rinnala, Tangitt, all of Kíli’s dogs? Where were Hassen, Yanna, Nomulkhuzi?

I nearly slipped on the mud under my bare feet. I staggered again, but got on firmer ground. Could I wade across the river without drowning myself?

I was next to naked on the grass, no weapons, no boots, no dogs, no pony, and nothing to keep the flies off me once they scented the blood dripping down my side. Or the wolves. So I’d better find a way across the river, and fucking damned quick.

Every step seemed to take a lifetime.

 

* * *

 

I’d just brought in a pair of ponies off the grass for tonight’s duty when Barkhuzi looked past me, frowning.

“What is it?” I asked quickly, sliding off the pony to follow my friend’s gaze. “Oh! Oh? Is that... is that a dog?”

“Aye, it is,” Barkhuzi replied in a grim voice. “I think it’s one of yours.”

“What?” I squinted hard, and just made out the pale shadow of brown and cream fur limping towards the tents. “Oh, Valar, that’s Rukhsit!”

I fumbled to loop the ponies’ halter ropes around the post, then sprinted towards the faltering Rukhsit. At my frantic call, Rukhsit gave a glad wag of the tail and tried to run to meet me, but she was too badly hurt. Oh, Valar, Valar, had a wolf rushed in on her? I gathered her into my arms with soothing words. Barkhuzi was right behind me, and he dropped to his knees beside me to help me find out how badly hurt she was. So much blood was on her flank that I expected to find the ragged tear so characteristic of a wolf’s teeth, but that wasn’t what I found.

“That’s a knife wound,” both Barkhuzi and I chorused.

“ _Skator kurvanog_!” I spat, smoothing Rukhsit’s fur away from the gash that raked her flank from the top of her shoulder all the way to the top of her hip. “Who the fucking hell would do this to Rukhsit?”

“Not just her,” Barkhuzi stared out on the grass where another of my dogs limped towards me, whimpering. “That’s Azrilmaag. I’ll get him. You get Rukhsit to Vikken.”

I picked up the poor creature, and carried her carefully to the dogs’ area, but not quietly. I set up a shout that had everyone around the tents running so see what was the matter. Barkhuzi had Azrilmaag in his arms, and reached Vikken just a moment after I did. Here was another dog with a knife’s tracery over his hide, but puncture wounds also scarred his shoulders, some quite deep. His mouth was stained with blood, too, so he’d fought whoever had done this to him.

Of course I was sure that Grun had done this, _kurksog reguurz vraz thrug_! And of course I was sure that he’d attacked my brother, too, and the dogs had gotten hurt when they’d rallied to his defense.

“I’ve got to find Fíli,” I stuttered, as soon as I’d laid Rukhsit down. “The only reason the dogs are hurt are because someone attacked my brother, I’m sure of it, and if the dogs are hurt and scattered, then Fíli’s hurt, too. I’ve got to find him!”

“I’ll go with you,” Barkhuzi insisted, laying Azrilmaag down beside Rukhsit. “We’ll follow the dogs’ trail –”

“Wait,” Derfrulia insisted. “We don’t know what caused the dogs to be hurt –”

“Who!” I snapped without deference. “It’s _who_ hurt the dogs, not _what_ , because those are knife wounds, and wolves don’t carry knives, only Dwarves do! I’ve got to find my brother!”

“Calm yourself, Kíli!” Derfrulia snapped back, but with more control than I had. “We’ll find Fíli, but I’ll not risk sending just the two of you out to do so. I want four hunters with you, senior hunters.”

The horse maid barked four names, so six of us ran to the briar enclosure to saddle ponies and thunder towards the river. We found no more dogs, though, and nothing at the river. Neither did we find anything at any of the three fire pits that Hassen and Fíli were supposed to have visited. We ranged up and down the riverbank, but that was just as futile.

A cry went up, then the whistles that called us to the whistler. Oh and oh and oh, someone had found another dog, this one dead just at the edge of the big mire –

Just beyond was Hassen. An arrow protruded from his back. He must’ve fallen from his pony and landed face down at the swampy edge of the mire.

He’d drowned, just as his dog had.

Two of my companions ventured to the edge of the mire to pull Hassen back to solid ground. I ran forward to help them lift him across the saddle of one of the ponies –

Oh, Valar, Valar, Valar, the arrow in Hassen’s back was one of mine.

Fíli had shot Hassen.

I looked around in panic, willing Fíli to appear before me, but without result. What should I do? The rest of the hunters would recognize my arrow without fail as soon as any of them thought to look at it. Was it better for me to call out the obvious, or hold silence?

I couldn’t hold silence.

“J-Jiri,” I rasped. My throat was tight, and my mouth was as dry as the mire wasn’t. “Oh, Valar, Jiri....”

“What is it, lad?” the senior hunter came to me.

“Th-that’s my arrow. One I made.”

Muttered curses whispered from my five companions.

“That’s got to be an accident,” the stunned Barkhuzi mouthed. “Fíli wouldn’t have shot Hassen, not in a thousand years.”

“It could’ve been an accident,” Jiri said, but he sounded so unsure that my heart thumped. “A noise across the mire, all the underbrush...”

“Where’s Fíli?” I graveled. “Fíli wouldn’t have let Hassen drown, even if he’d shot him accidentally. Where’s my brother? Fíli! Fíli! FÍLI!”

I shouted over and over, but no amount of noise brought him into sight.

We circled the mire several times, and looked for sign that someone had walked or ridden away from the mire, but the ground was too churned up for us to tell anything other than uncounted horses had traversed the soft soil. Of course, no one could go through the mire without ending up part of the mire, but I went as far as I dared, wondering if every broken branch half-submerged in the brackish water were Fili’s hand sticking up, or his elbow. Neither Mhornar nor Alabrin found any sign, no matter how I exhorted them to find Fíli. I was in shock when Barkhuzi pulled me away from the mess. If he hadn’t dragged me away, I might’ve rashly tried to swim through the mess just to prove that Fíli wasn’t there.

Two of the hunters went back to the nearest fire pit to check it again. Someone muttered that Yanna was to have relieved one of the watchers there, so now the nightmare was worse – Hassan was drowned; Fíli, Yanna, Simka, and Numolkhuzi were missing; one wolfhound was dead, two were wounded, and at least eight were missing; and someone had killed a Kahgli Dwarf with one of my brother’s arrows.

I couldn’t begin to think of what had caused such a calamity, but I had to believe that Fíli hadn’t been the one who’d shot that arrow.

At length, we took Hassen and Tangitt back to the tents, which sent up a lamentation from almost every throat. I was still too terrified about what might’ve happened to Fíli to join them, and my throat tightened so badly that I couldn’t swallow. While we’d been gone, another pair of my young dogs had returned, both with minor cuts. Simka had returned with his dog, but he’d seen and heard nothing.

That left three Dwarves missing – Fíli, Yanna, and Numolkhuzi – and as many as five wolfhounds – Rinnala, two of my young dogs, maybe one of the unattached dogs if one had attended Yanna, and Numolkhuzi’s dog.

Where were the Urghul Dwarves?

I raked the tents, looking for Ankulaz and Grun, and didn’t find them.

I’d expected treachery from Grun, but I’d thought I’d seen better in Ankulaz. Had he misled me that badly? _Skator_ , the _nar thos kurvanog_ was no better than his second, and they’d attacked my brother in revenge for me calling Grun a coward. How cowardly was it for them to strike at Fíli the way they had? They deserved an army of Orcs to harry them until they begged for mercy!

“Where’s Grun? Ankulaz?” I growled, not caring who heard me. A few folk looked up, but not nearly enough to my lights, so I repeated my question like the accusation it was, and loudly. “Where are the Urghul Dwarves? Did either of them have duty this morn?”

No one had seen either of them, but Ankulaz’s mentor, Kheluz was out, so the Urghul heir was likely on the grass, on duty. Grun’s mentor, Kupferrot, however, was one of the Dwarves who’d bathed early, and he was quick to say that he hadn’t seen Grun since last night.

“He left early this morn, before dawn,” one of his tent mates said. “I thought he had early duty. He’s often out of the tent before the sun’s up.”

Several of the Dwarves who shared their tent with Grun nodded agreement.

“Did he take a pony?” Derfrulia demanded, looking to Barkhuzi and Ilka, but both shook their heads.

“Not from behind the briars,” Ilka demurred, holding Issi on her hip. “But if he’d wanted one, all he would’ve had to do was walk out on the grass and snare one. He rides well enough that he wouldn’t need a saddle.”

“Where did he go?” I demanded. “And where is my brother!”

“And Yanna with them!” Cyth growled, no less worried than I was.

“And what about Numolkhuzi?” other voices called.

“Calm yourselves!” Derfrulia ordered sternly. “Hysterics don’t help anything. I want as many of you as can ride out on the grass at once. Jiri and Arkhanneh, you’ll lead your parties starting at the river, because that’s where the dogs came from. Range up and down as far as you can, and look for any sign on both banks.”

Folk scattered swiftly, even Derfrulia. Two of the dams hastened to collect all the smallest bairns so that the rest could join the search. I was already armed and mounted, so didn’t have anything to do to prepare to join the search. I tried to take what solace I could beside Mhornar and Alabrin, both of whom were agitated because of my frantic worry. Cyth paused beside me, murmuring what comfort she could, but it wasn’t much, given how angrily she voiced her fears for Yanna before she, too, headed for the briars to fetch a pony.

Only Barkhuzi, the four Dwarves who’d ridden with us, and I remained with Vikken and by the dogs’ area. Two of the young dogs that trailed me were still missing, so again I searched over the grass, hoping to spot one of them –

A Dwarf appeared amid the heat haze, wavering as badly on his feet as the air did around him. Barkhuzi sensed me stiffen, and immediately turned his eyes to follow mine.

“Is it Fíli?” he asked, his voice tight with tension.

“No,” I snarled, yanking my pony after me towards the unsteady figure. “It’s Grun.”

I flung myself atop my pony and sent her racing towards the Urghul Dwarf with Mhornar and Alabrin flanking us. Most of the Dwarves with ponies followed, but none passed me, and none were close enough to keep me from flinging myself off my mount and charging headlong at the Urghul second. He bled from a raft of wounds, all dog bites that I could see, and he was close to falling. His face was already blanched pale, but it was ashen when he realized I was about to plow into him.

Plow into him I did, without pause, reflection, or mercy. Once we crashed into the hard, dry ground, my fists beat him over and over and over again, no matter how he shrieked.

“Where’s my brother!” I howled. “Tell me where you left him, or I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”

I might’ve beaten Grun to death if Barkhuzi and Arkhanneh hadn’t pulled me off. Mhornar and Alabrin might’ve torn him to bits if Arkhanneh hadn’t ordered them off, as sternly as I’d heard anyone chastise a wolfhound. Growling fiercely, Mhornar circled the two Dwarves holding me, and Alabrin bared his teeth in a vicious snarl.

“Kíli! Hold your dogs!” Derfrulia shouted, but I was too crazed to hear her. It wasn’t until she grabbed me by the hair and shook me that I so much as noticed her. Only then did I feel the hands of my friend, my mentor, and the horse maid that restrained me. “Kíli! Call your dogs back, or I will take them from you!”

Oh, Valar, I couldn’t lose my dogs! My feelings for them aside, I desperately needed them to help me sort out what had happened to Fíli. Even if I’d no affection for them at all, I loved my brother so much that I would have done anything anyone told me to keep him safe, and to find out what had happened to him.

“M-Mhornar!” I gasped. “Alabrin! Down! Down!”

I was heartened when both came to me and crouched on their paws, even though neither wanted to. Alabrin trembled and kept looking back at Grun with the most furious expression. Mhornar was even less circumspect; she stared without a blink at the Urghul second as if the force of her glare would melt him into nothing. Still, she held her place. How she wanted me to set her loose! How I wanted to!

_You can’t, Kíli. If you kill him, you won’t find out what happened to Fíli. Hold on for that, if for no other reason._

I stopped struggling, and Barkhuzi and Arkhanneh dropped their hands after a nod from Derfrulia. I shook my tunic straight, and tried to calm my breath, but nothing could do that. So I skewered the Urghul second with my gaze, just as everyone else did.

That should’ve sent fear racing up Grun’s spine, to be so universally and silently accused. But the Urghul Dwarf stared back at me, ignoring the rest, with malevolence burning in his eyes.

“You try to cover up your brother’s crime,” he hissed. “A crime you took part in. But your plans failed, because I saw it. I saw what Fíli did.”

My jaw gaped. “You what?”

“Say nothing, Kíli,” Derfrulia ordered, before I thought of anything more intelligent to say. “I want to hear about this crime that Grun says your brother committed. Let him speak.”

“As well you should hear what I have to say,” Grun replied, as if we’d done him great injury to stare at him with such suspicion. “I told you Fíli had designs on Yanna. I told you. But all of you thought I lied. But I didn’t, and now all of you will regret that you bore Clan Urghul such enmity when it was Clan Durin who acted the snake.”

“Stop your insinuations,” Derfrulia scoffed, slashing her hand sideways as if to dismiss the Urghul’s words. “Speak truth, or don’t speak at all.”

“ _His_ damned dogs have bitten me all over,” Grun said, casting me a venomous glance. “Have you not the courtesy to offer me even a rag to stop the bleeding?”

“Speak first, and I’ll consider it,” Derfrulia retorted, putting her arms akimbo.

“As you say,” Grun conceded and made a show of a humble bow, or as close as he could while lying on the ground, propped up on one elbow. He struggled into a seated position, legs folded underneath him, and both arms cradled in his lap.

“I was on the grass early,” Grun began. “I headed for the river to wash, as I always do. I’d just finished when I spotted the Durin heir alone, riding madly after another two Dwarves. I couldn’t see who they were, but as you have always required us to be in pairs on the grass, Derfrulia, I was curious. Where was the Durin heir’s escort? Many ponies were by the river, so I snared one and followed, but circumspectly. If the Durin heir were on one of your errands, Derfrulia, then I wouldn’t interrupt or question him. But that isn’t what I saw. I saw him wrestle with Yanna, trying to force her –”

Kahgli erupted with outrage, and so did I.

“Fíli would never do that!” I shouted. “He would never!”

“He did, gangrel!” Grun snarled, his mouth twisting in anger as he stabbed his finger at me. “You knew his plan, because you sent all your dogs after him, and said nothing to Kahgli! It was your dogs that held off Numolkhuzi so he couldn’t help Yanna, then savaged him to death! While he died, yon maid couldn’t hold her own against your brother, and he had her like an animal on the ground. I ran forward to help her, but before I reached them, Ankulaz and Kheluz appeared to stop him. There was a terrible fight, but your fucking brother pulled out so many of his famous blades that he killed both of them. I still ran in to stop him despite the clear danger, but he turned his pack of dogs on me while he repeated what he’d come to do. When he was done this time, Yanna managed to free her knife and stabbed him for his trouble. That enraged him so much that he stabbed her to death. He rode off, leaving your dogs behind to harry me most of the way back. But back I am, and well able to carry the tale of Durin’s treachery.”

“That’s preposterous!” Cyth snarled, stepping forward as if she’d kick the Urghul second. “You can’t even tell a good lie!”

“It isn’t a lie!” Grun snarled back with equal venom. “You wish it were, because you hate the one who tells you the truth. But it’s true, every word of it. The Heir of Durin tried to take what wasn’t his to take, and he killed all who stood in his way. You go out on the grass and find their bodies. You’ll see that every word I tell you is the truth.”

Howls went up, mine among them. So much lamentation and dismay wracked Clan Kahgli, especially Cyth, because her family line had lost their only remaining heir. I added to the horror, screaming denial after denial, because of course Fíli was no more likely to have killed so many Dwarves, and as for forcing a maid...

My brother was brave and true and honorable, and would never have touched any maid anywhere without her invitation, and then he’d be the gentlest of sires.

Derfrulia was the only one who remained silent amid so much anguish. Her expression hardened until it could’ve been mistaken for stone, and she stared without a tremor at the injured Urghul Dwarf.

“Where did you leave Yanna?” Derfrulia demanded in a deep voice that brooked no refusal.

“I wasn’t the one who left her willingly. Your fucking dogs harried me too badly to stay,” Grun riposted. “But I was downstream of the southernmost smudge fire pits. Not the one near the great mire, or the first one downstream of the mire, but the one farthest down from the mire. Some distance from there, at the edge of the flat.”

No wonder we hadn’t found any sign of our missing – Grun’s directions sent us a good distance southeast of where we’d searched.

“Where are the rest of the dogs?”

Grun spat. “I make no apology for striking them as they struck me. The Durin heir urged them to attack me over and over again, and if some are dead now because of it, then that lies on his head, not mine.”

Derfrulia’s face tightened again, and the rumble of outrage from the rest of Kahgli sounded like an earthquake. But she slashed her hands again, and the rumble dropped to whispers, though there were still plenty of those.

“Jiri, Arkhanneh, send your search party where Grun directed. I will join you, and we will search until we find our folk.”

“I want to go!” I pleaded with Derfrulia. “I want to find Fíli! You know he did none of what Grun said! You know it!”

“Until I see my granddaughter for myself, I don’t know anything,” Derfrulia snapped. Her eyes flashed, and for the first time the horse maid’s gaze fell on me with implacable anger. “You will stay here, as will Grun, until we know more of what happened. Let none of those who remain here leave the tents.”

She swept away, and so did so most of the rest of the clan. Barkhuzi was left to see to the horses, and Cyth to govern the camp until her daughter returned. Even Vikken and Maaggulmuli rode out with Derfrulia, leaving Klyn to see to the dogs, and Khel to see to the Urghul’s wounds. A few old retainers and several young ones were the only others who remained.

The search party rode off. As I watched them disappear, I bit my lips until I tasted blood. Such a lather I was in, so afraid that something would happen, yet just as afraid that something wouldn’t! My brother was missing, surely hurt, and accused of monstrous crimes against the clan that had so generously fostered us. How was I supposed to bear that? How was I supposed to wait still and silent, under suspicion myself, and do nothing to find Fíli before worse befell him?

The sun lowered her eyes over the land, and already the blood flies were more active. If Fíli were hurt, the descending horde would drive him mad as it clamored for his blood.

I buried my face in Mhornar’s fur, and wrapped my arm around Alabrin’s flank. Both my dogs whined, and if much more time passed, I’d echo their moans.

“Kíli,” Klyn edged close to whisper. When I looked up, I was shocked at how ashen he looked, how hunted. “Kíli, you’ve got to look.”

“At what?” I rasped. “Unless it’s Fíli, there’s nothing I can bear to look at.”

“I think it’s him,” Klyn urged. “Oh, Mahal, I’m sorry, but I think it’s him.”

_What?_

I jerked up, and looked out across the grass, searching for anything that moved...

A single figure, nothing but a pale white specter, staggered aimlessly, then fell down. He was alone, but I didn’t need to spot Rinnala to know it was Fíli. His distinctive light blond hair told all.

I didn’t speak, didn’t look from side to side to gauge how many folk might see me sprint out across the grass, straight for my brother. Several cries of protest echoed after me, Grun’s among them claiming I was fleeing the clan, but I kept all of my attention on the wavering figure before me. Valar, he’d been stripped down to nothing but his tunic, and half of that was covered in blood. Flies buzzed around him, so many that he couldn’t bat them away.

“Fíli!” I screamed. “Fíli! I’m here! Fíli!”

My brother looked up, but his eyes were dazed and he put out a hand to steady himself before stumbling to his knees. I caught him before he fell completely to the ground, but he shrieked as soon as I touched him.

Oh, Valar, Valar, Valar, a knife protruded from his shoulder, and I’d jarred it when I’d caught him! I eased him to the ground, and bent over him to see how badly he was hurt. The flies had bitten him several times, and his feet were scraped and bloodied from walking without his boots. A cloud of flies flew up when I brushed them away from Fíli’s bloody tunic, and swarmed back eager to resume their easy feast. Blood streaked through his hair, too, and a huge knot swelled at the back of his head.

“What happened?” I demanded. “Fíli, Fíli! What happened?”

“Arrow,” Fíli mumbled faintly, groping at his shoulder. I caught his hand before he disturbed the knife. “Hassen...”

“Did you shoot Hassen?” I pressed, as the rest of Kahgli pounded up to us.

“Did I... what?” Fíli asked hazily, as his eyes rolled back in his head, and he passed out.

“Where’s Khel?” I asked the folk who sprinted up to us. “Fíli’s been stabbed! Khel?”

An angry murmur skittered through the Kahgli Dwarves. Barkhuzi looked aghast, and Klyn looked worse, as if he felt the hand of death reaching out for him. Worst of all, no one came to my side to help me see to Fíli. Valar, had Grun poisoned them so completely with such an impossible tale? Why would they give him credence over my brother?

“That’s Yanna’s knife,” someone muttered.

My mouth went dry as a dozen Dwarves stared at me with flinty eyes.


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When madness strikes Clan Kahgli, both heroes and villains emerge... as well as a mystery.

I shuffled along the riverbank, one painful step at a time. I was rank with blood, which drove off ponies and antelope, and drew a cloud of flying pests despite it being hours before nightfall. If I didn’t figure out how to cross the river, I have more to deal with than biting flies – I’d draw wolves, too. So no matter how dizzy I was, no matter how sick I felt, I had to keep walking downstream. I had to figure out where I was and how far I was from the tents.

More than once, I stumbled over a rough patch of ground, or a sharp spike of dried grass. With each misstep, I got weaker. Valar, I’d never get home this way. Sooner or later I’d have to brave the water, and better I did so when I was strongest.

I waded in gingerly. The riverbed was mostly sandy, with few large rocks, just as the flat grassland was. The current wasn’t strong, but as the water rose to my chest, even that feeble tug was hard to resist. I had to keep my feet, or I’d drown. I pushed myself forward quickly, no matter that my vision started to grey. I had to get across the water and then out again...

I didn’t remember getting across, and I don’t remember falling onto the southern bank. But here I was, lying on my side, blessedly not the one with the knife in it, and out of the water... mostly. My feet still trailed over the bank’s edge. I was soaked again, but I was grateful to be – the cool water revived me.

When the world didn’t whirl so much, I got to my feet again, and headed southwest, more or less. I looked for the Kahgli mast to guide me home, but didn’t see it.

Valar, where was I?

I looked up and down the river, looking for any landmark, but both directions seemed equally featureless.

If Rinnala had been with me, she would have steered me straight in a moment.

I didn’t have the breath to call for her, no matter how worried I was for her.

Was she dead?

She had to be – what else could’ve kept her from my side?

My throat closed. My sprightly, fancy, delightful Rinnala...

I looked behind me for the sun to get my bearings, then forced my feet to move forward, one step after the other. If I wanted to pay Grun back for killing my brave and beautiful queen, I had to get back to the tents. Otherwise, we’d both be wolf fare before long. I nursed that fury in my heart, using it as a goad to keep me going.

When my steps faltered, I told myself that Rinnala wasn’t the only one lost.

Where was Hassen? And Tanngit?

And they weren’t the only ones missing, were they?

Where were Yanna, Simka, and Numolkhuzi? And their dogs?

What in the name of the Valar had happened?

I had to warn Kahgli, had to...

Left foot, right foot; left foot, right foot; left foot...

I was on the ground again, staring up into a cloudless sky.

I got up again, sending up a horde of flies furious that I’d disturbed their easy meal. I burned from fly bites all over.

I staggered on.

How far had I come away from the river? Ten steps? A hundred? A half a mile?

I forced myself to scan the horizon, no matter how blurry everything was. Valar, please let me see the Kahgli mast!

It wasn’t in front of me.

I turned to look back at the river, which was not much farther away than when I left it.

This was pointless.

No! No, it wasn’t! I’d keep going, so that Kahgli knew of the others who were lost, and went out to look for them. If I didn’t, they’d not survive the night.

Resolutely, I looked forward again...

What was that to the left?

There. There it was. Wavering in and out of focus, but recognizable, was the Kahgli mast. I knew where I was...

... which wasn’t anywhere near where I thought I was...

How had I ended up a full mile up the river from the mire?

That didn’t matter now. I had the mast in sight. All I had to do was walk to it.

Everything blurred into a dizzy greyness, but I kept my feet, and I kept walking. My head ached like it was about to crack open. I felt as insubstantial as a piece of dried grass buffeted on the wind. How many days, weeks, months passed as I fumbled one foot in front of the other?

“Fíli! Fíli! I’m here! Fíli!”

I looked up, but all I saw were shifting grey shadows, and even they were dimming. Maybe the sun was on her way down. Which way was up? I groped for something to steady me, but the world went even greyer. Valar, if I fell on my face, I’d drive the knife in my shoulder even deeper. I put out my hands, but arms caught me before I crashed to the ground...

My shoulder blazed in agony, and the world went black for a long moment. When it cleared a little, I stared up into my little brother’s face. His mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear him. That didn’t matter. I had to tell him about the others, so many others.

“Arrow,” I mouthed, and groped for my shoulder. “Hassen...”

“Did you shoot Hassen?” I heard from a thousand miles away.

“Did I... what?” I asked hazily, as hands took mine.

The world dimmed to black again.

This time, it stayed that way.

 

* * *

 

“That’s a tuft of hair caught in his sleeve tie, too,” someone else muttered.

“Chestnut hair,” another muttered.

Before I could babble a denial, Cyth fell to her knees beside me to clutch Fíli’s right wrist. The offending twist of hair was tangled around the laces, and she stared at it in rage.

“Yanna’s,” she spat. “It caught there when he seized her –”

“It did not!” I shouted. “Look at it – no tuft of hair gets wound into the laces like that on its own! It was tied there! Someone tied it there to make it look like Fíli touched Yanna, but you know he didn’t, Cyth! You know this is a lie! It’s Grun’s lie!”

“She’d never let anyone take a piece of her hair willingly, or her knife!” Cyth hissed. “She’d die first! Fíli attacked her!”

“How can you believe that?” I clutched Fíli’s limp body. “Has he ever been less than the voice of courtesy, of reason? Has he ever been less than eager to learn all you taught us? Has he readily served whatever duty given him, and asked for more? Why would that change now? Fíli would never hurt Yanna or anyone else! Make Grun tell you what he had to do with this!”

“Fíli shot Hassen and left him to drown,” someone said angrily. “And Tanngit. And where is Numolkhuzi? Did Fíli shoot him and his dog, too?”

Angry voices rose in a clamor. If Derfrulia had been here, or Vikken, or any of Derfrulia’s sons, would they have let that clamor continue to build? Would they have seen that wisp of hair so conveniently tied into Fíli’s laces as the contrivance it was? Would they have wondered at how hard it would have been for a skilled warrior to kill three adult Dwarves and their dogs, much less an inexperienced twenty-three year-old lad?

Would they have let Grun limp forward, much less speak?

“He killed Urghul’s heir as well as Kahgli’s,” Grun pointed his accusing finger at my unconscious brother. “His lust led to the deaths of so many precious Kahgli wolfhounds, too. How can you let so many crimes go unpunished?”

“Fíli didn’t do any of those things!” I beseeched the folks around me. “Look at Grun – look at him! Why is he so covered with dog bites? Because he’s behind this, and the dogs tried to stop him! What is it you always tell me? That the dogs never lie? They didn’t this time, either! Grun’s the one to ask where Yanna is! And all my dog bairns! And Numolkhuzi! Where are they, Grun?”

“Believe what your eyes tell you,” Grun snarled to the Kahgli Dwarves. “The knife and the hair prove my claim! Fíli killed your heir, and mine. I want mine avenged, and you should want no less for yours. Put the traitor out on the grass for the night, and let the blood flies take your vengeance for you!”

Shouting Dwarves surged forward, tore Fíli out of my arms, and carried him towards the tents. No matter how I screamed and fought, I was beaten to the ground, but I got up to chase after the mob. So headlong was my rush that I plowed into Barkhuzi, who was in no better straits than I was. He’d tried to stop them, too.

“They can’t do this!” I shrieked to the red-haired Dwarf. “The flies will bleed Fíli dry, if the knife doesn’t!”

“I know, I know!” Barkhuzi hauled me to my feet. “I’ll make Great-Grandmother stop them. I will. Come on!”

As the Dwarves’ howls rose, chaos descended.

The next moments were nothing but shattered fragments...

My friend and I pelting after the Dwarves who carried Fíli aloft like so much dead meat...

Barkhuzi running to his great-grandmother, me diving after Fíli...

Me, beaten to the ground...

Fíli on the ground by the tents with Dwarves swarming over him as badly as the flies, a chain from the caravan harnesses around his neck and staked to the grass to keep him there, even though he was too badly hurt to crawl...

Barkhuzi pleading with Cyth; she, her face clenched in hatred, shouting back at him...

Khel, the medic, arguing and shoving angry lads and sires away from my brother...

So many shouts and screams – even the bairns set up a wail while the dams milled to the side, but the young lads and elders who’d been fools to listen to Grun for weeks jostled and shoved around my brother...

Cyth, striding into the fray... me for a heart-stopping moment, thinking she’d come to her senses and would order everyone back...

“See to the knife before the murderer’s left on the grass. I don’t want him to bleed to death before the flies have their chance at him. Hold Kíli back.”

Incredulous moans from the dams with the bairns, then a clamor of protest...

Me, pitched out of the mob with my frantic dogs beside me...

Cyth with her arms across her chest, adamant...

Barkhuzi backing away in horror... “I’m sorry, Kíli. I couldn’t move her. The best I could do was to make her have Khel take out the knife.”

“He’ll bleed to death if Khel takes it out! He can’t –”

“Khel knows that! He’ll cauterize it, I know he will, he knows what to do!”

Khel snarling at the Dwarves eager to tear at Fíli, “Back, the lot of you, don’t touch him! I won’t draw the blade until I’ve got a hot iron ready to seal the wound!”

“Pull it out! Yah! Let him suffer for what he did to Yanna!”

Khel, shouting, “You’re a fool and then some, Dok! I take proper care of Kahgli’s own, which is more than I can say for you! All of you, move back!”

Me, shoving through the angry Dwarves, Barkhuzi beside me...

Hands forcing us back...

Frantic dogs, milling, whining, howling...

Fíli screaming as Khel pulled out the knife, and pressed his hot iron to the wound...

“Fíli! Valar, Fíli! Leave my brother alone! He didn’t do anything! He didn’t!”

Grun, standing at Cyth’s side like a vulture, goading and gloating... “Yah, how right is it to see to his wounds when no one can ease those he murdered? Stole Kahgli’s last heir from you, he did, and without a thought to anything but his own lust.”

The nauseating stench of sizzling flesh, and Fíli’s shriek fading into nothing...

A deathly silence as Fíli’s breath gusted out of him...

No, no, no!

Fíli couldn’t die!

He couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t

_Please, Valar, please, let Cyth take pity on my brother, and make the Dwarves hold their hands –_

“Away from him, all of you,” Cyth rasped in a pitiless voice. “No one touches him until dawn.”

Me, howling denials, pleading, begging...

Fíli, struggling feebly to pull the chain from his neck –

He was alive! Alive! But so groggy, barely conscious –

Oh and oh, that knot on his head! He’d been hit from behind!

“You can’t do this! Someone attacked him – he’s got a great knot on his head! Look, look at him, at the blood in his hair! Someone struck him from behind like a coward, and then made it look like he did what Grun claims! He didn’t do anything to anyone! Make Grun tell what he knows! Make him!”

Cyth snarling, “Be grateful I don’t have Fíli executed where he lies! I’ve seen all I need to see – he killed my great-granddaughter! Kahgli’s last heir! No one touches him until dawn!”

Someone shouting, “Yah, let the flies do it!”

Others taking up the same cry...

Still others shouting, “Let them take Kahgli’s blood debt for us!”

Me on my knees as the flies descended on Fíli’s bare skin, turning him black from head to toe...

My brother crying out as the insects swarmed him, too weak and stunned to bat a tenth of them away, and me unable to do anything but watch them turn his pale skin red as they fed...

No!

**_No!_ **

**No!**

**NO!**

Me bolting out of the mob, running from one tent to the next, grabbing water skins, arkhi skins, anything with liquid in them, then off to the horse enclosure to get myself aback fractious Kulomar, then galloping the tall, black horse back to Fíli like the wind under Melkor’s hand...

Me howling, “Ware the Taalderfruli! The Taalderfruli!”

Dwarves scattering in panic as I sent Kulomar charging into their midst, pulling the stallion to a skidding stop so hard that he screamed and reared and bucked his worst... making him buck and kick again and again until every Dwarf had fled from Fíli, then vaulting off before the mad horse threw me off, racing to Fíli’s side to empty a water skin over him, then the next, then the next, praying that the Dwarves’ panic lasted long enough...

Flies scattering in a furious cloud, hating the wet...

Scraping my boots over the wet ground all around Fili, churning up mud...

Fíli moaning, “Kíli...”

“Roll in the mud, Fíli! Roll in the mud like the ponies in the wallow! It’ll keep the flies off! Do it, Fíli, do it! Roll in the mud!”

Fíli feebly trying to cover his skin with the mud...

Me racing to the kitchen fire, tossing a smoldering chip from the fire into the full fuel basket, grabbing the basket and a pot of goatsweed salve, then racing back to Fíli’s side...

The basket of chips smoldering and smoking as I ran, making me cough...

Cyth screaming in fury, “I forbid it! No one is to touch him!”

Me dashing the smoking basket onto the ground directly upwind from Fíli, then fanning the smoldering chips, sending the smoke pouring over him, driving away even more flies, then scraping my boots over the wet ground again, churning up more mud... “I haven’t touched him! I haven’t laid a hand on him, so you can’t lay a hand on me, either!”

The clamor of voices... Oh, Valar, did the young dams and a few of the lads call encouragement to Fíli to keep plastering himself with the mud?

Me, emptying another water skin around Fíli, flinging a handful of goatsweed salve into the fire, fanning the pungent smoke over my brother with the empty skin...

Barkhuzi shouting to Cyth, “What happened to Kahgli honor, Great-Grandmother? Please, Great-Grandmother! Wait until Derfrulia comes back!”

Cyth screaming at Barkhuzi, “I’ve waited twenty-five years without seeing justice for my granddaughter! This time, the murderer is in my hands, and I will not wait any longer!”

Dwarves rallying from my mad charge ahorseback, advancing...

“Mhornar! Alabrin! Guard Fíli! Guard Fíli!”

My dogs rushing to my side, flanking my brother...

Barkhuzi emptying another water skin around Fíli, then shouting at our harriers, “Are you all mad? Fíli and Kíli have always honored Kahgli! This is no way to repay them!”

Khel running in with another water skin, splashing it around Fíli, scraping the ground into more mud...

Folk milling, churning, crying out, arguing...

Me flinging more goatsweed salve into the burning basket...

Voices screaming...

Mhornar barking, then Alabrin beside her, and Neyshath beside them...

The Dwarves giving way to the snarling dogs, cursing us for turning their precious wolfhounds against them...

One of the lads howling, “Honor your Great-Grandmother, Barkhuzi!”

A young dam with her bairn clasped in her arms coming to stand by Khel, shouting, “Fíli wouldn’t raise a hand to Yanna, to any of us!”

Another maid joining the first, hands flung wide, screaming, “Stop! This is madness! Cyth, think what you do!”

A maddened lad howling, “He killed our heir!”

The dam shifting her bairn under her arm, then slapping one of the posturing lads... "Don't be such a great fool!"

Cyth, near spitting in rage... “Move away, Barkhuzi! Defy me, and I’ll call you outcast!”

“Why would I stay with Kahgli when we’ve forgotten all honor, Great-Grandmother? This is wrong! This is dishonor!”

Klyn rushing out of the shadows, his face a pale mask of terror, Kulazhath shifting from paw to paw in nervous uncertainty, looking up at him for direction as the small Dwarf pleaded, “No, Khuzi! Mahal, no! You can’t risk exile, _ban-chéile_ , you can’t!”

“How can I let Kíli stand alone against this? Let Fíli die like this? How can anyone here? This is wrong, and all of you know it!”

Grun, circling, glaring at Klyn with eyes as sharp as daggers...“Yah, exile isn’t something you want, is it, Klyn? You need your place here, or you’ll be tentless out in the world, yah?”

Klyn, flinching...

Grun, grinning in triumph... “Many things are wrong, as you well know. As all my kin knows.”

Klyn backing up, backing up, backing up... then turning tail to flee back into the dark...

Grun’s dagger eyes on Barkhuzi... “You should do the same, Kahgli. Follow your precious _ban-chéile_ , and you’ll keep yourself safe. Defy your clan, and you’ll lose your clan.”

Barkhuzi flinging mud into Grun’s face... “Kíli’s right – you’re nothing but a viper, a gutless coward! A curse on you, and another on those who give you credence!”

Cyth, cursing, ordering folk to shove Barkhuzi and me away from Fíli... Barkhuzi and I standing back to back in the smoke and mud as the Dwarves came on...

“Guard Fíli! Guard Fíli!”

A rush as every unattached dog left among the tents came flying to stand with Barkhuzi, Khel, Fíli, the two maids, and me, then Klyn skittering after them, terror-struck, but standing firm beside Barkhuzi, even when Grun pressed forward...

“Do you want me to tell Kahgli what they’ve harbored all this time? That you’re a traitor? A liar?”

Everyone froze...

The nightmare fragments of the night stilled into an eerie tableau. Fíli lay still with his protectors arrayed around him. Beyond us, the rest of the maids and the bairns huddled to the side. The dozen lads and sires circling us paused in their advance. Cyth stood with Grun at her shoulder, her face glowing a harsh red in the dim firelight, and his contorted with malevolence. Smoke rose steadily from my smudge fire beside Fíli, but nothing else moved, or even breathed...

... except for Klyn. His harsh, uneven breathing echoed in the sudden silence.

He cast a pleading look at Barkhuzi, then squared his shoulders to meet Grun’s mocking smile.

“I’m not afraid of you anymore. If Barkhuzi can risk his place, then so can I.”

Grun cocked his head, smiling his half smile. “He won’t stand with you when I tell him what you are.”

Barkhuzi’s hand fell firmly on Klyn’s shoulder. “Yes, I will, _ban-chéile_. Nothing can take me from you.”

Grun coiled back like an adder about to strike. “This will,” he hissed.

“He’s going to say that I’m his cousin,” Klyn blurted, before Grun could speak. “And I am. Our mothers are sisters. But I’m not a traitor, and I’m not a liar.”

“He’s an Urghul? His mother’s an Urghul Dwarf?” folk whispered amidst the smoke.

“My mother renounced Urghul,” Klyn’s constricted voice cut through the whispers. “Long ago. Because of... a lot of reasons. She took me away when I was seven. I owe them no allegiance. I will never owe them allegiance.”

No one moved, other than me squatting by the fire to fan smoke over Fili. What a relief it was to see his eyes intent on mine, not so groggy now, but he stayed down to make the most of the mud. Between that and the goatsweed fumes, few flies thought Fíli was much of a meal, so I dared to take a little heart. I couldn’t tend Fíli as I wanted, but I’d keep him alive through the night.

“It’s a tale we’ll tell soon, but not now,” Barkhuzi said, his voice strong. “You’re Kahgli, _ban-chéile._ Nothing changes that.”

“I can,” Cyth challenged.

“You can,” Barkhuzi nodded, “but not now. Only Derfrulia can call outcast. For now, I’ll honor your order that Fíli stay on the grass overnight. But I’ll stand with Kíli, Khel, Veantanz, Hellglorak, and all of the wolfhounds – all of them, Great-Grandmother – to keep watch over Fíli until the dawn, and beyond, if need be, until Derfrulia comes back. I won’t sacrifice all of the honor our clan has worked so hard to earn because of the words of a serpent.”

“Cyth speaks for Kahgli,” Grun challenged, but he wasn’t as confident now that he didn’t have the earlier chaos to inflame his supporters. “Not the least son of the clan.”

I’d had enough of Grun’s venom. Fíli was safe enough for the moment, so Mhornar, Alabrin, and I stalked away from the fire. Grun took a step backwards, but I punched him to the ground before he could beseech Cyth for protection. I planted my foot on his chest.

“Cyth doesn’t speak for Durin,” I growled. When the older sires rumbled at me, I raised my voice, and pitched it to its deepest and most menacing. “Cyth does _not_ speak for Durin! _I_ do, until my brother recovers! So in the name of the king’s clan, to which _you_ owe allegiance, I say that if one more word comes out of your serpent’s mouth, I’ll strip you bare and stake you beside my brother for the flies! And the dogs! And even your damned Taalderfruli!”

Grun took in the murmur of approval that came from the maids and dams, and how some of the elders who’d screamed for Fíli’s blood the loudest now looked dubious. He shrank from my foot on his chest, so I backed away until I was beside Barkhuzi again. His smile was crooked as he offered me a slight bow, which I returned.

“Carry on,” I murmured, getting a wider grin out of my friend, which he quickly smothered.

“Well done,” he whispered. “See to Fíli. I’ll stand over you both.”

My smile was grateful as I stooped beside Fíli to fan more of the pungent smoke over him. As I tossed another handful of chips into what was left of the fuel basket, then dribbled another handful of salve over top, I was gratified to see that all of the dams and maids but Cyth came forward to stand around us, even those with bairns in their arms. If the wolfhounds weren’t deterrent enough to the dozen lads and sires who’d listened to Grun’s poison, then the maids and bairns should be. It wouldn’t be lost on them that the clan’s most prized companions, as well as their next generation, all stood ready to protect Fíli.

My exhale was pure relief. Fíli was hurt, still in harm’s way, and wrongly accused of terrible acts, but he’d live through the night.

As for what would happen when Derfrulia returned....


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli and Kíli's hellish night passes. Will the morn bring respite and vindication?

“Fíli.”

Oh, Valar, I hurt. I hurt like I’d never hurt before. All over. Head to toe. Stem to stern. My head pounded. My throat – thirsty, so thirsty, as dry as a desert. Even my fingers throbbed. Blazing fire in my shoulder, once skewered on a knife, now burned and bloody...

No... wait... I’d been shot with an arrow, hadn’t I?

... but that knife... which... wasn’t there anymore, either, only fire...

“Fíli! Please, brother, answer me. Please, won’t you speak?”

I hurt too much to think in words, much less speak them.

Hazy scraps of memory... enraged Dwarves, searing agony, a chain on my neck, an insatiable plague of flies that bit, stung, and burned my skin like acid, the stench of blood –

“Fíli!”

The Taalderfruli? Had I seen the Fire Horse with a demon on his back?

Valar, the shock of cool water poured on my bare skin that sent flies up like smoke –

Kíli. It’d been Kíli who’d doused me until I thought I’d drown. He’d danced and whirled around me, screaming incantations... no, not spells and magic, but frantic pleas for me to coat myself in the mud that’d magically appeared under my body. Smoke pungent with hot antelope fat and sharp goatsweed had engulfed me, and a thousand crying, screaming voices had deafened me. My eyes had run and my throat had burned from the fumes, but the flies had abated...

My thoughts snapped into focus, and I knew where I was again.

Kíli squatted close, still fanning acrid smoke over me. He was muffled from head to toe in tunic, trousers, and head cloth; his boots were splattered with mud; and his face was smeared with soot. But his eyes were wide and unblinking, even amid the smoke.

“Fíli!” he pleaded. “Come on, doh kro! Answer me!”

For anyone else, even Uncle Thorin or Maamr, I couldn’t have gotten words from brain to tongue. But Kíli had fought a battle for my life, and that wasn’t something to answer with silence, no matter the swirl of smoke or the rumble of angry voices.

“You’re the doh kro,” I mumbled. “No need to yell.”

A wide, relieved smile split the sooty, sweaty mess of my brother’s face. “Oh and oh and oh, thank the Valar! You’re alive!”

“Course I am,” I mumbled in as firm and sturdy a voice as I could muster. “Takes more than an arrow in the shoulder to stop a Durin.”

“Arrow?” Kíli’s eyes widened. “No, Fíli, it was a knife.”

“No....” I tried to think. “Yah... but after the arrow... I think. I was helping Hassen look for Yanna and Numolkhuzi... yah, that’s when I was shot. I fell off my pony.”

“You’re sure? It wasn’t a knife?” Kíli pressed.

“I’m sure I was shot,” I reiterated. “But... I got bashed on the head? And nearly drowned in the river? And... yah, there was a knife in my shoulder when I woke up. And I was a mile away from where I thought I was, and across the river...”

I told him all I remembered. Kíli listened intently, then related what’d happened after I’d staggered back to the tents, and why he couldn’t touch me. He talked so fast that I missed half of what he said, but there was something about a knife and a strand of hair that had set so many Kahgli Dwarves against me. I knew nothing about either, so couldn’t answer his questions about how they’d come to be on me. Neither could I tell him where my clothes were, or how I’d gotten so far from where I’d been shot.

“Did Rinnala come back?” I asked. “I’m so scared that she’s dead, Kíli. She wouldn’t have left me if she’d had an ounce of strength in her body, so she must be dead.”

Kíli’s eyes were aflame with outrage. “Yah, and she might not the only dog we’ve lost. Some of the bairns I sent with you came back with blade wounds, and some didn’t come back at all. And Yanna, Numolkhuzi, Ankulaz, and Kheluz are all missing, as well as their dogs. Did you see any of them before you were shot?”

“What?” That shocked me alert. “N-no, none of them. It was just Hassen and me, looking for Yanna and Numolkhuzi... and Simka, too.”

“Simka and his dog made it back. He saw no more than you did.”

“Where’s Grun?”

“That’s a tale.” Kíli looked away to glower at something – or someone – in the dark. “He came back covered with dog bites, some of them fierce. He claims he saw you... rape Yanna, then kill both Numolkhuzi and Ankulaz when they tried to stop you, then kill Yanna after that. And then he claims you set all the dogs on him when he tried to stop you.”

My breath quite failed me, but my brother wouldn’t lie about such terrible things, and his grim face glowing with suppressed fury in the dim firelight confirmed that this was no prank.

“Don’t waste your breath to tell me you didn’t do any of it,” Kíli growled when I began to do exactly that. “I know you didn’t, and all of the folk around you know it. It’s the _skator-u_ fools past them who give the serpent any credence, and only because Cyth did first.”

“Cyth? Fucking hell, Kíli, no!”

“Fucking hell, yah.” In harsh, clipped words, my brother related how Grun had seduced Cyth into believing his lies, and her subsequent part in my punishment. “Did the arrow that hit you belong to the Urghuls? Did it have the white fletching?”

“I didn’t see it,” I confessed. “Ask Hassen? He’d confirm everything I told you up until se separated, at least.”

“Hassan’s dead,” Kíli growled. “We found him with your arrow in his back, and whoever shot him left him to drown in the mire. He knifed Tanngit, too, and left him to drown beside his Dwarf.”

I mouthed a curse under my breath. Kíli grunted in angry agreement, but kept his ire banked so he kept a close watch around us. One of the maids approached with a fresh basket of antelope chips, for Kíli’s fire was burning low, and he gave her a grateful word as she set the basket close to hand. Another brought a water skin, which Kíli put beside me so I could quench my fierce thirst. As she retreated, Kíli told me the last bit, how Klyn had braved Grun’s bullying to bring all the unattached wolfhounds to stand beside the folk who’d guarded me.

Hadn’t Kahgli said that their dogs never misplaced their affections? Why hadn’t that kept Cyth and the dozen Dwarves who’d harried me from believing the words of a viper?

The remaining hours of the night passed slowly, drawn out by pain and worry, but they did pass. Kíli never strayed from my side, hunkering as close as he could to waft smoke over me while still honoring Cyth’s decree not to touch me. Barkhuzi and Klyn patrolled back and forth, speaking softly to each other as they kept watch. Several maids and young dams did, too, their bairns well swaddled under their tunics to protect them from the flies, and also a few of the oldsters. And the dogs! So many wolfhounds paced back and forth in a constant stir, which heartened as well as worried me – their faith in me was humbling, but my own sweet Rinnala was missing, and likely dead. I would have given my sword arm to see her well before me.

As dawn crept into the sky, the flies lessened. I kept my eyes on Kíli and his stalwart dogs for as long as I could, but as stars faded and sky lightened, my exhaustion grew too heavy to resist. I put my trust in my brother who’d watched over me so closely, and shut my eyes...

“Fíli, wake up. Oh, Valar, Valar, brother, you’ve got to wake up!”

I struggled to get my eyes open. Oh and oh, the sky was much lighter now, so I hadn’t just closed my eyes – I’d actually slept an hour or two past dawn. The flies were only sporadic now, and more interested in meat that wasn’t fouled with mud and reeking of burnt goatsweed salve. I tried to sit up, but the chain around my neck was too short to let me lift my head much. Kíli was on his feet, looking out over the grass, with Mhornar and Alabrin at alert on either side of him. Most of the other folk were on their feet, too, and looking out as Kíli did.

“What is it?” I graveled. “Kíli?”

Kíli squatted beside me. “It’s Derfrulia and the searchers. They’ve got Yanna with them.”

My eyes shot open, and my whole body flushed with energy. I yanked the chain that pinned me hard enough to get to my knees, so that I saw the approaching riders for myself. Yah, there was Yanna atop a pony, and Kheluz atop another. Just behind them were two pair of ponies, each of which had canvas stretched between them to support a body. Numolkhuzi and Ankulaz, maybe? Did they live, or had they died on the grass? Yanna and Kheluz must have taken wounds, for riders led their ponies, and their pace was painfully slow. But I gave them no more than a glance, because a creamy white wolfhound was cradled in the lap of another rider... unmoving.

_No, no, no! Please, please, please, don’t let her be dead!_

“Rinnala!” I howled, tugging on the chain as best I could with one hand. “Rinnala!”

That narrow head shot up – she was alive! Oh and oh and oh, my bonny Rinnala was alive! To see her struggle against the bonds that had held her safely to the saddle... my eyes stung and blurred with tears.

“Kíli,” I gulped. “Go get my dog. Go get her, brother, please!”

“With pleasure,” Kíli grinned. The light in his eyes revealed as much relief as I felt.

As Kíli raced away to get a pony, my spirit rose as high as the sun. My Rinnala was alive.

 

* * *

 

I was too impatient to reach the returning search party to bother with a pony. Someone had tethered Kulomar to one of the tent stakes downwind of the smudge fire I’d tended all night, so I was up and on his back before the horse knew what I was about. I sent him hurtling towards the search party as fast as he’d go, and for once the silly beast kept his hooves on the ground before he threw himself forward. Was he as relieved as I was to see Derfrulia, the searchers, and all the missing Dwarves? Were the rest of my missing wolfhound bairns with them?

As I pulled up beside the Dwarf who bore Rinnala on his saddle, however, my relief faded. Yanna’s arm was bound to her body, and she held herself so stiffly that she likely had other injuries I didn’t see. Ankulaz lay cradled on canvas slung between two ponies, and had at least a fierce slash across his face – his one remaining braid and clan bead was gone. Numolkhuzi lay in the other canvas and seemed barely conscious. Even Kheluz was grey – he bore his dead herding dog on his saddle, and I couldn’t tell if he were wounded, or in despair.

Then there were the other dogs, four of them, tenderly borne home on the laps of Dwarves. Unlike Kheluz’s poor dog, these still lived. Of the ten that followed on foot, four were bandaged.

If such a sight weren’t grim enough, Derfrulia’s face was a hardened rictus of implacable rage.

“Fíli didn’t do t!” I blurted, before anyone spoke. “I swear it, he didn’t!”

“Fíli?” Derfrulia blinked in startled surprise, then her sharp eyes stabbed me. “Whatever prank your brother’s gotten himself into doesn’t matter. Tell me one thing, and tell me now.”

“Wh-what?” I stammered.

Ugly, lethal rage as hot as dragon’s fire kindled in Derfrulia’s eyes, and her voice dropped an octave. “Where is Grun?”

Derfrulia’s rage rekindled mine, and I met her eyes without a flinch. “Back there. The bastard led a riot last night, and my brother’s borne the brunt of it. He claimed that Fíli did all this.” I gestured towards the wounded Dwarves and dogs. “But Grun did it, didn’t he?”

“He has much to answer for.” Derfrulia scanned the rest of the search party. “Bring the wounded in slowly. Jiri, Kíli, with me.”

The horse maid urged her pony into a canter straight for home, so the lead hunter and I fell in to either side of her with Mhornar, Alabrin, and Hellvaen trailing. We’d gone only a few strides when a cry went up from the tents. All of the figures surrounding Fíli jumped up and down, pointing frantically towards the southwest, where a single pony and rider flew across the grass.

“Stop him! Stop Grun! It’s Grun! Stop him!” the faint voices reached us.

Derfrulia swerved to give chase, so Jiri and I followed. As my mount was a tall horse and not a pony, I quickly outstripped my companions. Knotting my hands in Kulomar’s long mane, I screamed for him to race after the fleeing villain, and the mad thing took me at my word. The horror of last night’s ordeal turned into a mighty lust for vengeance, and I sent Kulomar after Grun as if he were the lowest Orc.

He was worse than an Orc. He’d almost gotten my brother killed not once, but twice, and I would not let that pass.

When Grun realized I was after him, he drove his pony to jink this way and that, trying to avoid Kulomar’s headlong rush. Mhornar, Alabrin, and Hellvaen had all but anticipated my signals to leap after the Urghul Dwarf, barking and snapping to flummox his poor pony. I whistled the signal for the dogs to drive the pony left, and when she scampered that way, I drew Kulomar even with her, trapping her between the dogs and me. Grun had a wicked knife in his hand, and as I swerved closer, he slashed it at me – fucking hell, it was one of Fíli’s blades! I kicked it wide, then kicked again, this time under his wide-flung arm, landing a solid blow to Grun’s ribs. Grun had no saddle to hold onto, so after a brief flail of arms, he tumbled off his pony.

I left the dogs to drive the pony off, and circled Kulomar around Grun to cut off his attempts to run. No matter how many vicious curses the Urghul second heaped on me, no matter how he feinted and darted, I wasn’t about to leap off and vent my fury through my fists. Grun had one of my brother’s knives in each hand, ready to use them to the same deadly effect that had maimed so many dogs, so many folk. When he dove at Kulomar, I made the stallion dart out of range, then nudged him into a rear, hooves flailing as he struggled to keep his balance. Grun ground his teeth and howled in rage before once more turning tail to run away over the grass.

This time, Derfrulia and Jiri were there to cut him off, and the dogs circled to hem him in even tighter. My eerie Mhornar was the one to lead the confrontation, snarling and feinting at Grun to draw his attack. Alabrin held back –

Oh and oh, I knew what was coming! How many times had my dogs played this trick on me?

I vaulted off Kulomar and circled Grun, ready to back my dogs. Sure enough, as soon as Grun drove forward to slash Fíli’s knife at my queen, Alabrin darted swiftly behind him, leaping up to bounce his front paws against Grun’s back. As the Dwarf stumbled on his face, Alabrin and Mhornar flitted away, and I charged in. I stamped my boot down on Grun’s nape, holding him there to flail without result –

Fucking bastard, he didn’t flail – he tried to slash Fíli’s knife across his neck!

“Pestilence and death take you!” he spat, twisting Fíli’s knife as he tried to stab himself.

“You first!” I stamped Grun’s wrist without regard to sparing his bones. Then I kicked his ribs with every ounce of force I could muster, doubling him up. I had both of Fíli’s knives out of his hands before he could draw breath.

“Here, lad,” Jiri urged. The master hunter dropped beside me, already looping rope around Grun’s wrists. “Keep him pinned for me, yah, that’s right. I’ll soon have him tied.”

I didn’t take my foot off Grun’s neck until Jiri had lashed Grun’s wrists together, and then bound them to Grun’s body. It took both of us to rifle Grun’s clothes and remove a handful of blades. Some of them were my brother’s, but another one was familiar, too – a gaming knife, and mate to the one Fíli had found in his things so many weeks ago. I held it up for Derfrulia to see.

“Villain,” Derfrulia pronounced him, taking the knife and grimly observing as Jiri and I looped more rope around Grun’s ankles to hobble him. “You’ll be a long time answering for so much evil, Grun.”

Jiri and I heaved Grun to his feet, but he was no less defiant than he’d ever been. “Do your worst, broodmare. I’ve taken more from you than you’ll ever get from me.”

The smile on Derfrulia’s face sent an icy shiver down my back that even the sun’s glare couldn’t calm. “It won’t be the worst of me you’ll have to endure, viper. It’ll be what your own clan sees fit to impose. Tobazel will deal with your filth, not Kahgli.”

“Oh, you haven’t the spine to deal with me yourself?” Grun taunted. “And you think Tobazel will countenance anything you tell him? You’ve poisoned his ears with your harping for too long for him to believe any word from your mouth!”

“Maybe so,” Derfrulia shrugged. “But he’ll believe his own heir, and Kahgli’s besides.”

Oh, and oh, now Grun blanched! He hadn’t known that Yanna and Ankulaz had survived.

“Aye, villain. They’re alive. And thank our wolfhounds for it,” Derfrulia’s said, her smile never wavering. She nodded to Jiri and me. “Bring him.”

Derfrulia turned and cantered her pony back towards the tents, trusting that Jiri and I had Grun well in hand. And so we did – we’d bound the Urghul Dwarf almost too tightly for him to move. Jiri easily took charge of him while our dogs herded the spirited Kulomar towards me, so I was soon astride again. We looped our prisoner between our mounts, then led him after Derfrulia as quickly as Grun could walk, which wasn’t quick at all, given how closely we’d hobbled him. It was a slow trip, punctuated with much Urghul invectitude and taunting, but as I was well used to hearing such tripe, I ignored it. Jiri, however, finally muttered under his breath, and slid off his pony to advance on the bound Dwarf. The hunter bent down to grab a generous handful of browning grass, then seized Grun by the hair and stuffed the grass into his mouth. As the Urghul Dwarf tried unsuccessfully to spit out the mouthful, Jiri climbed back in his saddle and gave me a firm nod as we resumed our way back to the tents.

The rest of the trip was quieter, and that was a blessing.

 

* * *

 

Despite the delay to escort our hobbled villain, Jiri and I got back to the tents in time to hear Derfrulia in full voice. Barkhuzi was beside her, and so was Cyth. Perhaps my friend had given enough of the night’s tale to the horse maid for her to fathom the rest, for Cyth looked well shocked, almost fainting. Folk were helping the wounded off their ponies, and Klyn was with Fíli, who was still chained in the mud. I so wanted to go to my brother, but I had to keep Grun from inflicting more damage. Klyn would see to him until I could –

“Kíli!” Klyn waved. He had another word with Fíli, then ran forward, giving Grun a fierce glare as he came up beside my mount. "I’m happy to help Jiri keep an eye on the serpent.”

I slid out off Kulomar’s bare back and flung my arms around Klyn. “Thank you for bringing the dogs last night. You saved my brother’s life, and I’m grateful.”

“I should’ve listened to you when this first started,” the small Dwarf confessed in an ashamed tone as he returned my hug. “I thought if you knew I was kin to Urghul by birth... you’d cut me dead. I should’ve known better.”

“Course I wouldn’t have!” I shook him hard. “Valar, after all the teaching and friendship between us? How could you think that?”

Klyn grimaced, but he was smiling a bit at the same time. “Yah, Khuzi’s skinned me up my front and down my back about that. I don’t deserve him, or you and Fíli as friends, either. I’ll do my best to make it up to you.”

“Nothing to make up,” I insisted. “But yah, I want to see to Fíli. And don’t you waste much of your time on the viper. They brought Rinnala back and all of the dogs – they need you more than he does.”

“Go,” Klyn pushed me towards Fíli, and Jiri waved at me besides, so I left Kulomar’s lead rope in Klyn’s hand and sprinted for my brother. But I didn’t fall to my knees beside him.

“I’ll put an end to this right now,” I said, and heaved the tethered end of the chain holding Fíli out of the ground.

“Quick, Kíli,” Fíli exhorted me, helping me tug. We got the chain free and then unwound from his neck. “I need to see Rinnala!”

“You’d better take this, then.” I pulled off my head cloth, then tugged my tunic over my head. “The mud’s crumbling off, and you’re starkers underneath.”

I helped Fíli ease my tunic over his wounded shoulder, then twisted my head cloth into a rough sling for his arm. Then I lent him an arm, and we paced slowly to where the wounded dogs lay. Vikken and Khel were among them, working to ease the dogs’ hurts just as Maaggulmuli worked nearby on the wounded Dwarves. Yah, there was Rinnala, her creamy white fur streaked brown with dried blood, most of it over her shoulders and neck. Her mouth was stained, too, so she’d clearly inflicted at least one of Grun’s wounds. When she spotted Fíli coming towards her, she flailed, trying to get to her feet, but Fíli reached her before she did herself any harm. He flung his good arm over her back and buried his face in her fur, and when he looked up, he got a frantic face washing despite all the mud. They were a battered pair, but the relieved and grateful smile on Fíli’s face matched Rinnala’s elated expression, so all was well between them, and would soon be better.

As for Cyth and the twelve Dwarves who’d set on Fíli last night, Derfrulia’s infuriated expression, voice, bearing – Valar, her entire being – proclaimed that nothing was well between them and Kahgli’s matriarch, and would not be for the foreseeable future.

Good. I was not a vindictive Dwarf, but my brother had been falsely accused of terrible and shameful acts, and he’d nearly died from it. If Derfrulia had not acted so decisively, I would have, at least against Grun, and without apology.

For the first time, I understood how the folk in so many of Master Balin’s stories had come to such odds. It was one thing to read about injustices long past, and another to live through my own. As time passed, maybe the fire in my heart would fade to faint embers recorded in an old book in a dusty library. But today, and tomorrow, and for some time to come, I would not think about a certain Clan Urghul Dwarf without feeling fire in my heart.

I put that fire aside, because now was not the time to dwell on it, nor on how quick Cyth had been to judge Fíli so harshly. Now was the time to set my brother right.

“You and Rinnala look after each other for a bit,” I asked Fíli. “I’ll get some water and some clean clothes, and help you wash.”

“Thank you, brother,” Fíli gave me a grateful smile. “You saved my life six times over, and I won’t forget it. Ever.”

My smile was so wide that not even the sun outshone it, and I didn’t care who saw it. “Course not, doh kro, just like I won’t forget all the times you saved mine. You’re still ahead of me in that. I’ll be back with water in a flash.”

I reached out to caress Rinnala, then hurried off to scavenge a water skin. The supply was depleted, of course, thanks to my raid last night. I hadn’t made it as far as the family tent, though, so when I got things for Fíli out of his pack, I snared the water skin by the hearth and some soap, and hurried back to my brother. He was loath to leave Rinnala, but Vikken was there to see to her, so he let me coax him a little away from the tents so he’d have a semblance of privacy for his wash. Valar, he was so coated that I wanted to take him down to the river for a proper dunking. But Fíli wasn’t up to that, so I made do. I had to return twice to the dogs’ area for enough water, but soon he looked himself again, all but the nasty wound cut and burned into his shoulder.

“I’ll get some salve for that,” I assured him, getting to my feet to do just that.

“I can wait a bit longer,” Fíli assured me. He was more or less dry, but for his hair, and with a clean tunic and trousers on, he looked little worse for the wear. He lay back on a dry stretch of grass and exhaled gustily. “There’s soap and water left. Give yourself a scrub. You’re sooty all over.”

At mention of soot, I felt grimy as I hadn’t all night, so I didn’t hesitate to scrub. I ignored my hair, as it’d been bound up in my head cloth all night, but soon I, too, was cleaner.

“We need to trade for some boots for you,” I said, pointing to Fíli’s bare feet. “Neither of us brought spares.”

“Maybe I can trade a knife for some,” Fíli said drowsily. “Or... maybe not. I guess all of them I had with me when I was shot are somewhere on the grass with my boots.”

“Oh!” I exclaimed, and sorted through my scattered clothing. “Here are a lot of them. I took them off Grun when I caught up to him.”

Fíli struggled to sit up, wincing as his shoulder pulled, but he smiled broadly when I arranged the six blades beside him.

“Oh, Valar, that’s grand, Kíli. You’re grand. That’s the lot of them, but for my sword and my bow.”

“Those might turn up, now that you can tell me where you were shot. Maybe I’ll find your boots, too. And your knives weren’t all Jiri and I took off the bastard. He had a mate to that gaming knife that he sneaked into your pack.”

“Did he?” Fíli snorted, but softly. Now that he was dry and dressed, the night’s long vigil was pulling him towards sleep. “Valar, what a lot of treasures he’s hidden.”

“Maybe Derfrulia will find more in his pack,” I agreed. “Oi, brother, if you can sit up, I’ll do your braids. Then I’ll get you back to your cot, bring you some breakfast, and then you can sleep yourself out.”

Fíli stuck out his arm, and I eased him up to a sitting position. He folded his legs under himself sleepily while I untangled his hair and set his braids right again. He looked much himself when I was done, albeit exhausted.

“Come on, brother,” I encouraged, helping him to his feet. “Just a few steps to the tent, and then you can take your ease.”

“I want to see that Rinnala’s well,” he muttered drowsily as I looped his good arm over my shoulder.

“I’ll do it, and if she’s well enough, I’ll bring her to you in the tent,” I promised. “Oi, _skator_ , this is one of the few times where being tall is trouble. It’s not so easy to help you along. Come on, I’ll take you aback. Hop on.”

Fíli didn’t fuss or demur, so he must’ve been nearly beyond walking. I got him on my back and wound my arms around his knees to hold him there; he wrapped his good arm around my shoulders, and I bore him swiftly to the tent and laid him on his cot, making sure the fly screen was well closed to keep the hardiest pests from bothering him.

“Stay awake just a bit longer, Fíl,” I urged. “I’ll bring Rinnala fast as I can.”

“All right.” Fíli lay back on his cot with his coat tucked under his head as a pillow, and let out another long sigh. I dashed out and headed for Rinnala, who perked up when she saw me. Klyn was with her.

“I fed her, Kíli,” my friend said. “She shouldn’t walk too much for a bit yet – she’s got a nasty slash over her shoulder. But if you can carry her, I’m sure Fíli will be happy to have her back.”

“That’s no lie,” I grinned. “Thank you for seeing to her. Fíli won’t be awake much longer, so I’ll be back soon to see to my two. Did the rest of my bairns make it home?”

“All of them,” Klyn smiled. “It was Kheluz’s herder dog who didn’t, which is a sore loss.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, wincing. Valar, what a swath Grun had cut in Clan Kahgli as well as Clan Durin! “Herder dog or wolfhound, losing either is as bad as losing a bairn.”

“Aye,” Klyn agreed. “Here, I’ll help you get Rinnala up, then you can take her. Make sure she doesn’t spend too long flat. Help her get up every couple of hours, yah?”

“I will.” I stroked Rinnala’s ears gently. “Yah, fancy maid, are you eager to see my brother again? He’s near frantic to see you.”

Klyn and I eased Fíli’s queen into my arms, and I carried her back to the tent as gently as I could. As I expected, Fíli was sound asleep, so I eased Rinnala down on my cot so that she’d be near to hand when Fíli woke up.

“Take your rest, Rinnala,” I said softly, so as not to wake Fíli. “You’ve both had a wicked night, and sleep is the best thing to get past it.”

I didn’t spend too long stroking Fíli’s dog, because she sighed much as my brother had, laid her head on my cot, and shut her eyes. I grinned to see them both, though as much relief as amusement infused my thoughts as Rinnala settled into her well-deserved rest. I ducked out of the tent yet again, this time to reward stalwart Mhornar and Alabrin for fighting so hard beside me all night. They deserved every bit of their meat this morn, and I made much of them after, tending their coats, checking their feet, and stroking salve through their fur to protect them from the flies. When I’d set them right, they accompanied me to the kitchen pots, which were sadly barren. With the stir through the night and the morn’s upset, there was little to eat, but cooks were already at work to remedy that.

I made do with lukewarm porridge and a few slices of cold antelope, washed down with plain water. It tasted as good as any feast, and I made short work of it. Out on the grass, just out of earshot past the tents, a stir and a fuss embroiled many of the Kahgli folk as Derfrulia heard about last night’s near disaster. As tired as I was, I wanted no part of it, and once I swallowed my last bite of antelope, Alabrin, Mhornar, and I ducked into the family tent without a second glance.

Rinnala was comfortably asleep on my cot, so I lay down on the ground between the cots with Alabrin on one side and Mhornar on the other, and shut my eyes.

I was asleep before I’d breathed a pair of breaths.


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morn after Fíli and Kíli's ordeal on the grass. How will Clan Kahgli address the madness of the night before?

I woke up hot, soaked in my own sweat. My shoulder was beyond agony, but the rest of me felt little better, as if I’d gotten the worst of a tavern brawl. My stomach was an empty, aching knot wrapped around my spine; my tongue was as dry as ashes; my skin was a maddening conflagration of itchy welts.

I didn’t have to ask the Valar what’d happened to me – I remembered every bit of last night’s horror, being staked naked out on the grass.

As bad as I hurt, though, I was grateful to be alive. All the credit for that went to Kíli, of course, so when I did send a prayer up to the Valar, it was to thank them for my little brother. He’d defended me against an entire clan of angry Dwarves...

Hmmm. That wasn’t right. Kíli had told me that only a few Dwarves, egged on by Cyth, had harried me. Why had the dam I considered my steppe grandmother, who’d treated me as kindly as her own blood, been so quick to turn on me? That shocked me to my core.

I didn’t want to think about that now – I couldn’t, if I were honest. I hurt too much to darken my thoughts with such things.

Opening my eyes confirmed that I was in the tent, on my cot, under the fly screen. But Rinnala lay on Kíli’s cot, not Kíli. My queen had a swath of bandage wrapped around her shoulders, and if her brown eyes were glad to see me, they were also pain-struck. I stretched out a hand to caress and stroke her ears, but that pulled my shoulder much too much, and I had to stop.

“Where’s Kíli?” I mumbled. Rinnala inched forward, wanting to lick my hand, but she was as awkward as I was. It was no good my reaching out to her again, so I gingerly inched my feet off my cot to put them on the ground –

Oh.

There was Kíli, fast asleep between our cots, with Mhornar and Alabrin to either side of him.

I drew my feet back up again, hoping I hadn’t wakened him. Good, he slept on, his head pillowed on one arm and his knees drawn up to his chest. He had his smalls on, if nothing else, but that was testimony enough as to how tired he’d been when he’d laid down. If I inched down to the foot end of my cot, I’d get up without waking him...

Kíli’s dogs stirred, which stirred Kíli awake right after. He stared up at the roof of the tent, frowning, but then caught my eyes, and quickly sat up.

“Fíli!” He went to his knees, his eyes widening in worry. “Oh and oh, brother, you’re awake! What do you need? The necessary? Breakfast? I know – salve for your shoulder! I forgot it last night! And Rinnala –”

“Your arm,” I croaked. “Give me your arm. Help me sit up, please?”

Kíli eased me up, careful not to touch my wounded shoulder. I did my best not to wince or moan, but I didn’t fool my brother’s critical eye.

“Necessary first, then,” he offered. “Then I’ll take you to Khel to see to your shoulder. You’ve got a fever. No surprise, having to roll a raw wound in so much mud all night. And don’t tell me no, Fíli. You need looking after, and what I can’t do, Khel will. Can you stand up? Oh, wait, not yet – first Rinnala needs a hand, don’t you, pretty one? I’ll help you to your feet, then Mhornar and Alabrin can escort you while I see to your Dwarf.”

I was grateful for the time Kíli needed to don his clothes and boots, then to gently lift Rinnala onto her paws. The poor maid whined, but she stayed upright, which was more than I thought I’d manage. I was dizzy, maybe from my fever, maybe from my empty stomach. When Kíli knelt beside my cot and ordered me to climb aback, I didn’t argue. My brother hefted me easily, and out we went.

It was early afternoon, more evidence that I’d slept longer than I’d expected, given how sore I was. The sky was hazy with overcast, but the air was still hot enough to keep the flies at bay. Kíli got me to the necessary, where I managed to do what was needed without wavering too badly. Then he carried me to the dogs’ place where he hoped to find one of the healers to see to me. Luckily, Khel was there to tend one of Kíli’s injured bairns, so as soon as he finished salving the dog’s stitches, he greeted us with a relieved smile.

“Mahal, I’m glad to see you both,” the healer said. “I didn’t do a proper dressing for your shoulder last night, so I’ll remedy that right now.”

“Fili’s got a fever,” Kíli replied as he let me slide off his back. I wasn’t so steady on my feet as Rinnala was, so he kept hold of me so that I sat on the ground instead of falling there. “Likely all that mud?”

“Likely,” Khel nodded, as Kíli helped me get my tunic off.

“Mud or not, I thank you for your care last night,” I offered as Khel stooped beside me. “You kept me from bleeding to death, and that was a blessing.”

“You deserved a lot more than that,” Khel muttered, as he gave my shoulder a critical look. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to give it. A good dose of arkhi would’ve eased the pain of the hot iron.”

“I’m just as glad to have missed that,” I confessed. “No offense, but the stuff’s awful.”

“Aye, you likely have to grow up with arkhi to appreciate it,” Khel offered an understanding grin as he considered my shoulder. “Now, your shoulder needs a good wash, and it won’t be pleasant. Best you lie down.”

It was a relief to lie back on my tunic, because the world didn’t spin so fast that way. Kíli squatted beside me as Khel fetched boiled water from the cook fires, clean cloths and pots of salve, and his roll of surgical implements. I shut my eyes and let him do what he needed, and if it hurt a lot, it didn’t make me yell or pass out. After that, he dabbed a cooling salve over the rest of me to dull the itch of so many fly welts. Before long, I had a swath of bandage to match Rinnala’s. Kíli helped me get my tunic back on, and tied a sling for me to keep my arm from moving. Khel dosed me with tea for my fever; it tasted like willow bark and something else, maybe feverfew. It was terribly bitter, but I was glad to have it. My shoulder already felt better after Khel’s ministrations, and the medicinal tea would help that along very soon.

Once Khel made sure that Rinnala’s wounds were healing well, I sat quietly while Kíli fed Rinnala, Mhornar, and Alabrin. Then he helped my queen to lie down beside me with her head in my lap, and asked his pair to stay with me while he fetched our breakfast.

I didn’t like Kíli waiting on me, but as thready as I felt, I didn’t protest. Maybe once I ate, I’d feel stronger, and he wouldn’t have to wait on me after that.

Soon, Kíli reappeared with an enormous pot of porridge and a teapot. Once Kíli plunked down beside me, several of the unattached dogs came to sit around us, which made Khel chuckle. Unabashed, my brother pulled spoons and teacups from his trouser pockets.

“Here’s tea,” Kíli held up the teapot, and poured our cups full. After we drained them, he nudged the porridge between us and pointed his chin at it. “And there’s porridge. That ought to settle you a bit more.”

I wasted no time in shoveling mouthful after mouthful of porridge into my mouth. I was so hungry that I could’ve had a snarling, snapping wolf in my belly, but with each bite, the wolf calmed. Kíli kept pace with me, and when the porridge was gone, he took the pot back to the kitchen fires and refilled it with stew. Two big rounds of biscuits accompanied the stew, which went down a treat. When we were done, Kíli dipped the empty pot in the steaming kettle used to clean the dogs’ bowls, but it was only a formality. We’d all but licked the pot clean, so hungry had we been.

As I’d hoped, the world steadied once my belly unwrapped itself from my spine. A few more cups of tea filled the last empty spaces in my stomach, and everything looked better...

Kíli sat up as if someone had poked him, then scrambled to his feet.

Before I could ask why, the answer presented itself – Derfrulia strode towards us. Vikken, Jiri, and Barkhuzi were with her. All four looked tired, as if they hadn’t taken to their beds as we had after dawn. Even so, my brother put himself between the horse maid’s entourage and me, and his hand was on the hilt of the knife at his belt. He wasn’t the only one alarmed – Mhornar and Alabrin stood beside him, and several of the unattached dogs restlessly watched the proceedings. Rinnala raised her head and looked up at the approaching Dwarves with a near-silent growl.

“I won’t let you touch my brother,” Kíli warned.

Derfrulia held up a conciliatory hand as she folded herself down on her knees in front of us. “No one will raise a hand to your brother, Kíli. He was falsely accused and wrongly punished last night. I’m here to ask your pardon, and his.”

I managed to keep my mouth from gaping, but my eyes were likely as wide and surprised as Kíli’s were. Kíli didn’t move for the longest moment, then he looked back at me in wary confusion.

“Um...” Kíli hesitated. “Last night, I said that I spoke for Clan Durin until you were able to, so... do you want me to keep on, or do you want to take back the right?”

Oh, we were so formal this morn! I didn’t smirk; both Derfrulia and Ankulaz had shown over and over again how important protocol was on the grass, and I wouldn’t disparage that. I’d follow Kíli’s lead, and see to it that he received all due respect for saving my life at the same time. I put my hand on my heart, and offered my brother a nod.

“I thank you for all you did last night, brother. You saved my life, and you spoke well for us when I couldn’t. I can speak for us now only because of your bravery and loyalty, and I’m in your debt.” I patted the ground beside me. “I’m proud to have your counsel beside me, just as I always have been.”

For a fractured moment, Kíli’s eyes widened and an incredulous grin split his face before he schooled his features back to something more sober. Master Balin would’ve been beyond speech when Kíli offered me simple thanks as calmly as any diplomat. He would’ve needed a chair when my brother turned a firm, steady gaze on Derfrulia, and sketched a simple bow over his hands to ask her pardon.

“No pardon needed,” the horse maid replied. “You’re a brave and honorable son of Durin, Kíli, and Kahgli has done your brother a grave injustice. If Fíli owes you a great debt, I owe you a bigger one, because you didn’t defend only Durin’s honor – you defended Kahgli’s, too.”

Kíli covered his surprise by sitting to my left, that quarter space behind. “Um... I didn’t think of that at the time, Derfrulia. I just wanted to protect Fíli. It was all the Kahgli folk who did their clan proud more than me. Khel, Barkhuzi, Klyn, all the maids and dams, all the wolfhounds... all of them stood with me against Grun, and I thank them for it.”

He made another bow over his hands.

“We’re glad that Yanna and Numolkhuzi and Ankulaz survived Grun’s attack, too,” I offered. “We hope that none of them were badly hurt. And none of the dogs, too.”

“As soon as your wounds allow, Fíli, we’ll hold council to tell all the tales that need to be told,” Derfrulia replied. “Some should have been told long ago, which would have avoided many wrongs that have been done since.”

I exchanged looks with my brother. Oh and oh, the curiosity burning in his eyes matched what burned in my heart, and I didn’t need his prompting to know how to reply to Derfrulia’s words.

“Thank you for your consideration, Derfrulia. I’m ready at your convenience.”

“I thank thee for yours,” Derfrulia gave the formal reply. “I’ll call council as soon as can be, before the night watch begins. Many will speak, so that all will know everything. I will ask you to speak of what happened to you on the grass, and Kíli of what happened last night. Once we’ve heard all there is to be heard, I will decide what justice is to be done.”

“We’ll be ready,” I assured her, and Kíli nodded beside me.

“Again, I apologize for Kahgli’s evil last night. It will not go unanswered.”

Derfrulia offered us a deep bow, then unfolded herself from her seat, and moved away, already conferring with Jiri and Vikken about the council. Barkhuzi lingered after his grandmother left, dropping beside us with a relieved smile.

“Mahal, I’m glad to see you look so well, Fíl,” he exclaimed. “Just the shoulder and a fever, then?”

I nodded, not bothering to mention the itchy fly welts. I’d been bitten more than a herd of ponies, but in a day or two those would fade without leaving a mark. “What happened after Derfrulia rode back to the tents, Khuzi? It looks like none of you found your cots at dawn.”

“No one did but you and Kíli,” Barkhuzi admitted. “You both needed the sleep, all of the Valar knew, and I can’t wait to find my cot now, I grant you. But the stir was nothing I’ve ever seen before. Grandmother nearly tore out her beard by the roots when she found out what Great-Grandmother let those dozen Dwarves do last night. And as for Grun...”

“What happened?” Kíli and I both chorused.

“He’s not running around loose, is he?” Kíli blurted, staring around us in a flurry. “He attacked all those folk and the dogs, didn’t he?”

“The short answer is yah, he most certainly did,” Barkhuzi nodded emphatically, smacking the ground beside his thigh for emphasis. “As for the long answer, we’ll have to wait for the council. Better stuff your bellies, lads, because it’ll be a long cycle of tales.”

“I don’t have to wait for the council to thank you for standing with Kíli for me. You, Khel, Klyn, the maids and dams and bairns, and the dogs waved my life.”

Barkhuzi thumped my thigh, albeit gently in consideration of my wounds, then rose to his feet. “Course we did, Fíli. You’re clan, and even better, friends. Friends stand together.”

Barkhuzi had reached the kitchen fires and helped himself to stew before the lump in my throat went down. Kíli nudged my good shoulder and leaned close. “Yah, Khuzi’s the best of friends, isn’t he? Of course he stood with us.”

“I’m surprised Derfrulia delivered her summons to us herself,” I said. “Barkhuzi could’ve done it easily enough.”

Kíli’s snort was scornful, if quiet. “You’re the _kurvanog_ heir of Durin, doh kro. The crown prince over all the clans. Do you think Derfrulia doesn’t know that? Imagine if she had to tell Uncle that Kahgli had killed you, and likely me after you?”

Uncle Thorin’s fury bore no contemplation.

As if he heard my sentiment, Kíli nodded. “Yah, that’d be a conflagration and then some. So of course she came herself, and she _asked_ for our attendance, and didn’t _demand_ it.”

I gave my little brother – not so little! – an impressed look. “You’re turning into a wise fucking menace as well as an eerily fucking menace, Kíl. Thank you.”

Kíli snorted again, but gleefully. “Welcome. But don’t tell Master Balin, yah? Otherwise, he’d expect me to stay awake during all of my studies, not just the interesting bits.”

“We have a pact,” I agreed, holding out my hand for Kíli to slap, then slapped his in return. “I can’t wait to hear what happened to Yanna and the rest. Did you find out how badly they were hurt?”

Kíli described what little he’d noticed when he’d ridden out to Derfrulia this morn, which sounded bad enough. Had they been in a fight with Grun, or had he Urghul Dwarf come upon them unawares? Or had something completely different happened? Now that I had a full belly, I was impatient for the council to begin. Kíli took it upon himself to fetch another round of food, which he surely needed as much as I did. We had just time to down our chunks of antelope wrapped in bread and slathered with chutney before Barkhuzi and Klyn came to get us to council. We got Rinnala to her feet, then me to mine, then Kíli offered his arm for me to lean on.

“I’m all right,” I assured Kíli, taking a ginger step or two. I was steady enough, but the stubble was hard on my bare feet. “I’d be better with my boots, but it’s not far, and I won’t let Grun think he struck a deep blow against me.”

Kíli hummed in understanding. “ _Skator_ , no, brother. Still, I’m right here if you need me.”

“Us, too,” Barkhuzi leaned close to whisper, and Klyn nodded his support. “But yah, it’s good to keep a strong front to that viper.”

Our friends flanked us as we joined the rest of the clan for the council. Everyone gathered in a semicircle just downwind of the cooking fires, so as to take advantage of the smoke against the flies. Derfrulia sat in the middle, and the rest of the folk arranged themselves to either side of her. I was glad to see Yanna beside her grandmother, albeit clearly in pain and reclining against a pack frame. Ankulaz was beside Yanna, also reclining on a pack frame. Farther down the line was Numolkhuzi with his bandaged leg stretched out in front of him, and Kheluz. Directly opposite Derfrulia, in a separate group that was not part of the rest of the clan, were Cyth, the twelve Dwarves who’d let her fury incite them, and Grun. While the Kahgli folk were unbound, Grun had his arms bound before him, his ankles hobbled, and a pair of chains around his neck. Two young, burly Dwarves held the ends of chains, so the renegade Urghul second was well secured against escape. As we approached, Barkhuzi and Klyn steered us to sit between them and Derfrulia, with the horse maid to our immediate right. To sit with our friends was good on its own merits, but their attention to protocol was nothing to ignore, either – we were to sit on Derfrulia’s left as lesser sons, higher ranked than her grandson and his _ban-chéile_. I wouldn’t have presumed, but the horse maid’s approving nod to Barkhuzi was tacit evidence that this was where she wanted Kíli and me. My brother waited until I sat beside the horse maid, then sat between Barkhuzi and me.

Once everyone settled, Derfrulia got to her feet.

“I call council,” she said with her usual terse directness.

Everyone fell silent.

“Yesterday, Clan Kahgli suffered an attack on many of our own, as well as on one of our fosterlings. The crown prince of Durin also was attacked, then endured false accusations and grievous injury at our hands. These are serious crimes, and Kahgli will address them. First, Fíli will tell us what happened when he and Hassen took the fuel baskets to supply the river fire pits.”

“Walk to the center of the circle and speak,” Barkhuzi leaned close to whisper. “If folk ask you questions, you answer. When no one has anything more to ask, come back here.”

I nodded understanding, then got gingerly to my feet. Every eye was on me as I went to the center, but as I was well used to that in Thorin’s Halls, I felt no discomfort. In a steady voice, I described how Yanna had accompanied Hassen and me to the river, ridden ahead while Hassen and I had supplied the fire pits, and was gone when we returned, Numolkhuzi with her. I described how I’d been shot just moments after Hassen and I had separated at the mire. The next part was a jumble – how I’d gotten hit on the head, dragged, and blindfolded; had the arrow ripped out and nearly drowned; then discovered the knife, my missing clothes, and my unexplained presence on the other side of the river. Several folk called out questions, but none challenged my account; mostly they sought clarification. I wasn’t able to give them much of that, but I did my best.

“All I understood was that I’d been shot, and at least Yanna and Numolkhuzi had gone missing. Rinnala was gone, too, and I was just as worried about her. And I didn’t know where Hassen was. I wanted to reach the tents quickly to warn everyone as fast as I could.”

“What happened when you reached the tents?” Derfrulia asked.

I swallowed, but answered truthfully that I’d spoken only a word or two to Kíli before I’d passed out. My next memory was of being naked on the grass, a chain on my neck, and Khel screaming at the folk who pressed in on me. When folk asked me to recall who’d harried me, I could name only a few, but I praised Khel because he’d kept me from from bleeding out, and had kept the harriers at bay. Then I thanked Kíli’s efforts to keep the flies from me, and all that had happened after that.

When no one called out more questions, Derfrulia beckoned me back to my seat, and Kíli replaced me in the center. His account of the night was much more lucid than mine, and though he answered steadily, his eyes flashed as he named all who’d pressed me. Several folk called out agreement with his recollection – how gratifying was it to hear him so well supported! And how resourceful had he been, first with Kulomar, then with water and smoke?

Khel was next, then Barkhuzi after him, and then several of the maids and dams, all reinforcing Kíli’s tale. If anything, they made more of Kíli’s efforts than he did, which was good for him, if damning for the dozen Dwarves and Cyth.

As if she’d saved him for last, Derfrulia called to Klyn to tell his version of the tale. Of course, his agreed with everyone else’s, and Derfrulia was swift to move past it.

“Many have said that Grun threatened you before you rallied our wolfhounds to Fíli’s defense.”

Klyn swallowed, and glanced at Barkhuzi before he answered. “He did. He didn’t want me to stand with Kíli to protect Fíli.”

“Yet you did stand with Kíli.”

“It wasn’t the first time Grun had threatened me... just the first time I defied him,” Klyn nodded. “I was afraid that you’d cast me out because I’m his cousin... and because of all that lies between Kahgli and Urghul. I don’t know anything about that, I don’t. I was just seven when my mother took me away, so I don’t remember very much about Urghul. I didn’t recognize Grun as my cousin until he saw fit to tell me so.”

“And why did he do so?” Derfrulia went on.

Klyn’s face twisted in disgust. “Because he wanted me to do things for him. Things I didn’t want to do.”

“What things?”

Klyn’s eyes tracked to me, and his lips turned downwards. “I’m sorry Fíli. I put that gaming knife in your pack. Grun said he just wanted to play a prank, and I didn’t want him to tell anyone that our dams were sisters... but when Derfrulia said she’d cast out anyone she caught with such a knife, I knew he’d lied – he wanted to do harm. After that, I stayed with the dogs, or with gatherings, so he couldn’t speak to me, or make me do anything, but that’s no excuse. I still owe you a debt. You, too, Barkhuzi.”

I gaped, and so did Kíli beside me, but Barkhuzi’s face suffused with compassion for his visibly upset mate. “You could’ve told me, _ban chéile._ Fíli and Kíli and I would’ve figured out how to help you.”

“I know that now,” Klyn looked at his feet. “I’m sorry. Grun said he’d claim Maamr was tied up in whatever happened with Helglor, and Kahgli would cast me out.” Klyn flicked a look at Derfrulia that was half pleading, half defiant. “She wasn’t. Maamr had nothing to do with it.”

“What happened to the gaming knife?” someone called.

“Fíli brought it to Cyth, who brought it to me,” Derfrulia answered. “It’s a mate to one that was found on Grun this morn.”

That caused a stir, but Derfrulia gestured for quiet. “That is another tale to tell, but let us hear this one to its end.”

That returned attention back to Klyn, who looked about the circle as he waited for the next question.

“Tell about your dam and her sister, _ban chéile_ ,” Barkhuzi urged, and several others eagerly seconded him. When Derfrulia nodded agreement, Klyn took a marshaling breath.

“My mother and her younger sister were from Clan Regha, the wolfhound breeders,” Klyn began, and several folk nodded in approval of that clan’s standing. “Tobazel had requested Regha send fosterlings with an eye to alliance. Urghul wasn’t in bad standing then, and my dam, Alberch, was a hunter, and relished the chance to go north to practice her art, so Regha was willing to consider the match. My aunt, Silfberch, insisted that she must go, too, so they both went. But when they reached the Urghul tents, they found that Tobazel already had a six-year-old heir – Ankulaz – but he wanted more. My mother and aunt weren’t the only fosterling maids, either, which infuriated my aunt, if not my mother. Maamr said she wanted nothing to do with the intrigue of making a second heir, and that Tobazel was too rough to suit her, besides. So she stayed out of his way, and found a better companion – one of Tobazel’s cousins, also a hunter – so she settled with my father. They were happy, though life wasn’t easy so far north, and Tobazel wasn’t much of a leader, but they made the best of their lives.”

“What about your aunt?” a voice called out. “She’s Grun’s dam, yah?”

“Aye,” Klyn nodded. “Silfberch kept her eye on Tobazel, no matter what his faults, no matter Ankulaz’s dam.”

“What happened to her? Ankulaz’s dam?”

Klyn shook his head, looking nervously at Ankulaz. “Whatever it was, it was more than forty years before I was born. Maamr told me this tale, long after we’d left Urghul. I mean no disrespect to Ankulaz... this is just what she told me. She said that Neyrinn, Ankulaz’s dam, was a skilled trainer of wolfhounds, but Tobazel cast her out of Urghul only a year or two after Ankulaz was born. Unlike most Urghul dams, she’d had lands of her own because all the sires in her line had died. Tobazel courted her well enough, I suppose, but once Ankulaz was born, Tobazel claimed that her lands were his by marriage. When Ankulaz’s mother protested, Tobazel cast her out with nothing but a pony and her clothes, not even her son. But casting her out had a great cost – when she rode away, all of Urghul’s wolfhounds left with her.”

Derfrulia looked to the Urghul heir. “Is this story true, Ankulaz?”

The wounded Dwarf shifted against his pack frame. Despite how poorly Klyn’s story treated Tobazel, the heir looked more confused than anything else.

“I... don’t know. I never knew my dam, and this is not a tale I’ve heard. Tobazel said she was dead. The wolfhounds... Urghul lore teaches that they are too vicious to approach or handle, and can’t survive the cold of our lands, which is why Urghul had none. But... Kahgli has proved that they are not vicious, that they are strong and true companions, so.... As for Tobazel claiming my dam’s lands... it’s true that my sire is greedy. I thought it was because our clan had so little, that he had to defend what little was our own, but...” he shook his head in uncertainty. “Urghul ways are different from Kahgli’s.”

“Go on, Klyn,” Derfrulia asked Klyn, when it was clear that Ankulaz had no more to say, so the small Dwarf acquiesced with a nod.

“Maamr was happy with my sire, but Silfberch worked ever harder to attract Tobazel’s eye. When she bore Grun within the year, everyone assumed that Tobazel was Grun’s sire. But Tobazel never acknowledged him, and Ankulaz remained his only heir. So it remained for some fifty years. Maamr said Silfberch was just as grasping and jealous as Tobazel. She said that my aunt and Tobazel fought like beasts, and few other dams were unwise enough to accept his advances. Maamr and Taad stayed out of such things, and made the best life they could. She and my sire were happy when they made me, and I remembered them as good and kind.

“Then Urghul fell on hard times. The winters turned very harsh. There was little food. The antelope didn’t range so far north, and Urghul’s ponies failed. I remember being very hungry and cold, even during the summer. So when the fall festival came, Maamr talked to Regha, to see if they’d take her, my sire, and me. They would, because my sire and dam were such good hunters. Regha had suffered from wolves, too, and were desperate for more hunters to hold them off. Maamr and Taad loaded their packs, and told Tobazel they would move from Urghul to Regha, right there at the festival. But the great trouble with Kahgli had happened, whatever that was, and the festival was full of talk of how Kahgli's heir Helglor had died, and Urghul had lost its lands and status. Maamr said that Tobazel thought we were leaving because of the scandal, which is why he flew into a rage. This part I remember – I saw Tobazel attack them both. He hurt my father, and if we hadn’t been at the festival, we wouldn’t have been near folk to help us. Regha saw to my father, and he lived for many years, but not all of them as a hunter, because he couldn’t draw his bow properly. He learned to see to the dogs that Urghul said were so vicious, and so did I.”

“So your sire is dead?” Derfrulia asked.

Klyn nodded. “Some four years past.”

“And your dam?”

“She’s still with Regha, if Mahal pleases it. She still hunts.”

“If your dam lives, why did you claim to be an orphan when you came to Kahgli, then?” Derfrulia asked.

Klyn shrugged. “All the steppe clans know that Kahgli and Urghul are at odds. Better to claim I was an orphan and stay clear of something that happened so long ago, things I had no part of. I owe no allegiance to Urghul because Tobazel maimed my sire and cast out my dam. I honor Clan Regha, but I gladly owe allegiance to the clan of my _ban chéile_. Even so, I was afraid that if you knew Urghul was my birth clan, you’d cast me out. I... just wanted to live my life in peace.”

A soft murmur whispered around the circle, but it was a sympathetic one. When no one asked anything more, Klyn bowed.

“That’s all I can tell you.”

Derfrulia nodded acceptance, and Klyn returned to his place beside Barkhuzi. The red-haired Dwarf gave his _ban chéile_ a reassuring clap on the back, but our friend’s skittish expression and hunched posture revealed how nervous Klyn remained. I was too far away to do so, but Kíli leaned behind Barkhuzi to lay a consoling hand on Klyn’s back and offer a reassuring smile. He had no time to offer any words, because Derfrulia had held up her hands for attention.

“We have heard the tales of what happened to Fíli yesterday and last night. But he was not the only one attacked. Now we will hear of Ankulaz, Yanna, Kheluz, and Numolkhuzi. We must also remember Hassen, for he was murdered, so the others must speak for him. All four suffered wounds and cannot stand, so they will speak from the circle.

“I call on Yanna to speak first.”

I leaned forward as eagerly as anyone in the circle to hear the heir of Kahgli speak.


	52. Chapter 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many tales are told during Kahgli's council, but the most riveting one is the one Grun keeps to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, but the logistics are something else. I made a few slight adjustments back in Chapter 48 to Fíli's recollection, and to Chapter 50 to reflect how badly some of the Dwarves were wounded, so that everything was seamless, so you may want to check those out before you dive into this chapter. Thanks for your patience!

_Grun shut his eyes as one Dwarf after another spoke of the havoc he’d wrought so easily on Urghul, Kahgli, and Durin. They spoke in shards, fragments, bits – without a crumb of understanding. His treachery was right there in front of them, but none of them, whether they spoke or listened, was smart enough to make whole cloth out of so many remnants._

_He smiled. Bound he might be, and condemned before long, but until he breathed his last, he’d savor all that chance and circumstance had bestowed upon him yesterday morn, and what he’d made of such bounty._

 

* * *

 

_Finally, finally, a morn arrived where Urghul’s heir served on the grass and he did not! As he did each free morn, Grun got up before the sun and disappeared out onto the grass on foot, bow at his back and knives at the ready, munching the bits he’d saved from last night’s kitchen fire. When he was far enough away that no one saw him, he pulled out his long lens, scanning to see when Ankulaz and his mentor left the tents. Yes, more good fortune – they rode towards the river. A handful of dry porridge grains drew one of the ponies to Grun; it greedily enjoyed the treat while he slipped a halter over its head. Grun tied a lead rope to the halter, got himself astride, and turned the pony to amble towards the river, without haste. The day was long, and he was patient._

_His anticipation grew as Ankulaz and his mentor drifted towards the mire. Kahgli herders and hunters constantly checked the soggy ground because it was easy for an unwary pony to founder there; wolves often lingered nearby, as well, eager to take advantage of a trapped pony’s misfortune. He tethered his pony in a thicket that screened it from casual sight, then edged around the periphery with bow in hand._

_More good fortune – Ankulaz and his mentor separated to skirt the mire. When the Urghul heir circled towards the river, Grun slunk in pursuit. All he needed was one clear shot, and enough time to retrieve his arrow, and the bastard would never cross him again._

_Now, while the heir looked away from the mire to scan the riverbank!_

_In one fluid motion, Grun nocked his arrow, aimed it, and let it fly. It thunked home solidly, to the right of and just below Ankulaz’s shoulder blade. The heir gasped, managing only a breathless, fractured scream before pitching forward over his saddle._

_Grun bolted out of the thicket and leaped at the injured heir, dragging him off his pony. He scrabbled over the wounded Dwarf to wrench his arrow free, elated when air escaped the ragged wound. He’d hit a lung – perfect! Look at the heir’s soulless black eyes widen in shock as he fought to breathe. In a few more breaths, Urghul’s heir would be heir no more._

_“You were easier to kill than Kazunki,” he taunted, when it was clear that the Urghul heir could only gape at him. “He’s gone, and you soon will be. Where will our sire turn now?”_

_A snarl behind Grun gave just enough warning for him to push himself off the heir’s body. A herding dog, as compact and short as the demon wolfhounds were long and tall, hurtled towards him, barking, snapping. Grun whipped his bow around him in an arc, bashing the dog’s skull with enough force to knock her aside. Kheluz was right behind his dog, shouting and kicking his pony to a faster pace, then bringing his bow to bear on Grun. Another kick to the dog’s head, and Grun loosed an arrow at Kheluz. Curse the bitch when she clamped teeth on his sleeve – his arm! – disrupting his aim. His arrow missed Kheluz’s heart, instead skewering his groin close to the hip joint. The bitch went berserk, barking like a demon and biting just as savagely, diving at Grun so closely that he had no room to use his bow. He pulled his favorite knife from his boot and rammed it into the bitch’s chest when she leaped at him again. She shrieked as the force of her leap impaled her on the blade, then shrieked again when Grun gave the blade a fierce twist and yanked it free. The long, triangular blade left a gaping wound, and the dog bled out in seconds. Grun kicked the carcass away with a curse, and turned on Kheluz writhing on the ground, trying to crawl towards his fallen bow. There was another Dwarf he’d finish –_

_He was thwarted again when a pair of wolfhounds descended on him like avenging spirits. He had just time to raise his knife again, and cut a long, deep wound down the flank of the first wolfhound. It stumbled and fell; and the second one raced by so swiftly that it missed him completely. He grabbed his bow, and managed to target the second dog in time to skewer its back leg – not a killing stroke, but severe enough to keep the beast from harrying him as he darted an urgent look around him. Where wolfhounds ran, so did Dwarves. Where were the two who accompanied this pair?_

_Melkor be praised – the Kahgli heir was one of the approaching Dwarves._

_How easy was it to shoot her and her lackey? How sweet was it to see pain and horror fill the Kahgli heir’s eyes when he blocked her pathetic attempt to hold him off with her boot knife? He stamped on her wrist, grinding his boot until her bones crunched, laughing when the maid couldn’t suppress a cry._

_“You’re no harder to kill than your mother,” he taunted. “Easier, even – she didn’t wail when I slipped my knife between her ribs.”_

_“_ Nar thos kurvanog! _” she cursed him, spitting on his boots. “Fucking eunuch!”_

_A brutal kick to the maid’s ribs silenced her. “Not nearly the eunuch all of Kahgli is,” he spat back, right in the maid’s contorted face. “You and your proud honor – you won’t see the shambles I make of that, but your fucking matriarch will. I promise you that!”_

_After another kick came the sound of more breaking bones. When the maid lay still, whether from pain or prudence, Grun considered the boot knife that lay beside her nerveless fingers. It was distinctive, easily recognizable as hers..._

_Oh, what he could do with that!_

_Yes, he’d finish both of the Kahgli Dwarves, then despoil the maid after she bled out. That would make it look as though Ankulaz had attacked and raped the Kahgli heir. He’d leave her knife buried in Ankulaz’s chest as if she’d tried to hold him off. No revenge on Urghul or Kahgli would be sweeter._

_First, he’d remove all sign that he was the one to inflict so much mayhem. He yanked his arrows free of dogs and Dwarves, and stowed them in his quiver. The Urghul heir, his mentor, and the Dwarf who’d accompanied the Kahgli heir didn’t twitch when he twisted his arrows free, so he stooped beside the Kahgli heir. He ripped and cut her clothes away, exposing the luscious body beneath, and caressed the point of her knife along her flank, looking for that most sacred of spots between the fourth and fifth rib, the spot where he’d nestle the blade into her heart –_

_Something thrashed in the underbrush at the edge of the mire._

_Grun thrust Yanna’s knife in his belt, grabbed his bow, and raced back to the mire. How heady was it to have more prey to pursue? Four Dwarves and three dogs had only whetted his appetite for more, and his heart raced in excitement._

_Ah, it was the fool Hassen, blundering along the edge of the mire. Grun stilled his breath, drew his bow, and soon another Dwarf fell to his unerring eye. He was ready when Hassen’s dog launched itself at him – all he had to do was pull out his gaming knife, hold it firmly, then ram it between the stupid creature’s ribs when it leaped at him. Sadly, he didn’t quite kill it, but that was easily remedied. He dragged the wretched creature further into the mire, and let it drop into a shallow pool. The dog flailed, but he held its head under the water until it drowned –_

_Another rustle, this one on the other side of the mire._

_More bounty? Of course, timid Kahgli never sent a single Dwarf out on the grass, only pairs. All he had to do was wait in the shadows, and Hassen’s companion would show himself soon enough – so, so easy. He stilled, waiting for his next target to reveal itself._

_There, yes, just a pale flash against the darker shadows of the underbrush..._

_He’d already let his arrow fly when he registered the pale flash as the distinctive blond hair of the Durin heir._

_He grinned. Melkor was generous today –_

_Fuck Melkor for His perversity – an entire flight of demon wolfhounds descended on him!_

_He managed to shoot one of the dogs before the rest fell on him as fiercely as the wolves they were bred to combat. No longer was he the predator, but prey. Fangs seized his arms, legs, pulling him this way and that. If he went down, they’d tear him apart like so much raw meat between them. Wrenching his knife hand free, he slashed and stabbed and thrust, until two of the dogs gave way. There! He snatched a second knife from his belt! Now he could wreak savage wounds with either hand on anything that came near._

_Were these the puppies that capered after the gangrel Durin? Only one of them dove at him with any effectiveness – the white bitch that followed the Durin heir. She alone attacked him from the sides rather than head on, which prevented him from impaling her as he had the other dogs. She also rallied the others, so he concentrated his attack on her, slashing and stabbing repeatedly at her shoulders and chest. When she finally stumbled, bleeding too badly to leap at him again, he had an easier time driving off the others. They hovered in disarray around the bitch, whining and moaning._

_A new plan dulled the pain of a dozen ragged dog bites. No matter how badly he bled, his blood would be well spent if he reached the Durin heir._

_Good, the heir wasn’t dead quite yet. Grun had already wrought devastation on Urghul and Kahgli – if only he had time to frame Durin for all of the morn’s deaths! Think how much turmoil would spread when penniless and honorable Durin became penniless and dishonorable – that would be the sweetest revenge of all. Whether Urghul’s sire acknowledged him or not, he’d still brought down a prince and his diminished clan with him. All he had to do was put one of the Durin's arrows in Hassen's back, then drag the Durin heir to where the others lay, finish all but him, and leave him there. Grun would make his way back to camp, spin his tale, and tell what remained of Kahgli where to find the carnage. Then he could sit back at his leisure to watch the Durin heir claim that he hadn’t committed such savagery despite all signs to the contrary. What a savor that would bring!_

_He limped to the Durin heir, stirring groggily from his sprawl, and managed to club him with the hilt of his knife before the dogs set at him again. He backed off hastily, taking the Durin's bow and quiver with him. How easy was it to retreat to Hassen's body, yank out his arrow, and replace it with one of the Durin's? It was just as easy to drag the body deeper into the water beside his dog/ As soon as Grun set hand on the Durin, however, the dogs launched themselves at him anew. This was not the white bitch’s doing; the young whelps did so on their own. Once, twice, three times, Grun tried to approach the heir, but all he managed was to loop a rope around the heir’s ankle. The dogs let him fetch his pony, and then it didn’t matter if he couldn’t approach the heir – all he had to do was ride off dragging the heir after him. He’d drag him into place easily enough._

_As soon as the heir’s body twitched and jerked as he was dragged, the beasts renewed their efforts to leap at Grun, no matter their wounds. There was nothing for it – he’d cross the river with the bastard, and fuck the dogs! They were too badly injured to follow him, and when the heir’s body disappeared under the water, they had no focus for their attention. They remained on the bank to watch him drive his pony across the river._

_Some of the dogs drifted downriver, perhaps drawn to the wounded Ankulaz and the three Kahgli Dwarves. That meant he wouldn’t be able to stage anything more than he already had, but that mattered little. He’d done enough to see the Durin heir condemned._

_Grun dragged the Durin heir out of the water on the far bank, then stood considering while the wounded Dwarf writhed and coughed to clear his lungs despite the arrow in his shoulder. Stubborn, he was; how long would such spirit last once Kahgli heard Grun’s tale? Grun dismounted, edged behind the groggy heir, and smashed the hilt of his knife into the back of the heir’s head again. He hoisted the limp figure across his pony, and led his pony a good mile upriver before dumping the helpless heir onto the grass. Grun screened the heir’s eyes with his own head cloth, bestowed a rib-breaking kick to the middle of his barreled rib cage, then planted a boot on his chest. One quick twist wrenched Grun's arrow free, then one quick thrust put Yanna’s knife in the arrow’s place – yah, didn’t the heir shriek at that! The sound died fast as the heir passed out. Good, Grun could easily strip the heir’s clothing away, all but his tunic. Let all Dwarves older than a bairn make of that what they would – didn’t any lad strip down like that before he laid with a maid? If only he could geld him – that’d consternate Clan Durin, to rely on its gangrel second heir to father their future heirs!_

_As tempting as that was, it was too risky. Such a savage wound might make the heir bleed out. Even if it didn’t, it didn’t suit the tale Grun wanted to leave for Kahgli. Ah, the young heir was rousing. Grun dragged his feebly stirring body into the river, held his head under the water until he was close to drowning, then dragged him up just above the water. He gathered the heir’s clothing, snared his pony, and made his way away. The heir would be too consumed trying to cough his lungs clear to notice Grun._

_Grun swam his pony back across the river, then pointed it towards the tents. So pleased was he that he hardly noticed the pain of his wounds. Even when he drove off his pony and walked the rest of the way back to the tents, he was too elated to let his wounds bother him. What did it matter when the benighted gangrel attacked him before he quite reached the tents proper? He flung his lies at the gangrel, and savored the unschooled shock and horror that disfigured the gangrel’s alien face in return. Such balm was just what he needed to stoke the fires of the old serpent hag’s hatred. How he laughed inside as he goaded her past thinking. So much for Kahgli’s vaunted honor and integrity! It was so thin it couldn’t withstand the easiest of insinuations, and the camp disrupted into chaos and mayhem. Durin’s strength was no better – as soon as the flies turned the Durin heir’s skin black, then red, the gangrel fled into the dark._

_But if the gangrel disappeared into the dark as a coward, he returned clothed with magic. He thundered between the tents on a huge black horse, glowing gold in the light of the beacon fire, invoking the Taalderfruli with a howl punctuated with the mad screams of his mount. For the first time since Grun had begun his carnage, icy claws tore up and down his spine. Perhaps the grass wasn’t afire, but the wind was fitful and angry, and folk scattered willy-nilly before the dark horse and rider. The horse, suddenly riderless, spun and flailed, then raced into the dark, but there stood the gangrel, dumping skin after skin of water over his brother, still screaming incantations to the skies. He whirled away again, reappearing with a smoldering basket, then danced and spun in the heart of the smoke, churning up mud and whipping smoky tendrils over his brother like a sorcerer._

_Mud, smoke – the flies wouldn’t feast on Durin blood now! Unless -_

_In an instant, Grun stationed himself at the viper hag’s shoulder and dripped more poison into her ears, turning her usual reason into mindless rage. But what was this? The rest of Kahgli wasn’t so quick to ignite as the old hag and the stupid Dwarves he’d cultivated so carefully? Grun ground his teeth, but time still favored him. It would take little to push Kahgli’s matriarch after her mother, whenever she reappeared._

_The dawn, however, brought more than the Kahgli matriarch back to the tents; it brought all of the folk he’d ambushed yesterday, too. Perhaps he hadn’t managed to kill the Durin heir after all, or Kahgli's, or his own. Time to make an unnoticed retreat._

_As what remained of Kahgli gawked at the approaching search party and its pathetic burdens, Grun slipped into the briar enclosure, mounted the first pony he came to, and made his swift escape – only to find the Taalderfruli thundering after him. No matter how he swerved and struck, he soon found himself tightly bound, barely able to walk. Now here he sat, listening to one Dwarf after another spout bits and bobs._

_He smiled again. He’d struck blows against three clans, and whether he lived past the day or not, the wounds he’d inflicted would fester long after._

_He was well content._

 

* * *

 

As if I wasn’t horrified enough at what Fíli had endured when he was shot, then nearly killed on the grass overnight, I was aghast at the cruelty that Grun’s malice had inflicted on so many others – six Dwarves and eleven dogs maimed by bow and blade. One Dwarf had drowned with his dog, three Dwarves barely hung onto life, and two more dogs had died of their wounds. The devastation was beyond contemplation. I wasn't surprised when Maaggulmuli had deemed it too risky to move such badly injured folk until this morn. In the dark, every wolf within twenty miles would have found the stench of fresh blood hovering over such a caravan irresistible, and not even the flies would have deterred them.

None of Master Balin’s tales had ever imagined that a single renegade Dwarf could bring three clans so close to death and ruin, whose hate had festered over so many years. No one life was worth more than another, but if Fíli had died, or even Yanna or Ankulaz, the rumblings would have shaken every Dwarf in Middle Earth, and life would not have been the same for our folk ever again.

Grun’s dam had named him well.

The tales from the twelve Dwarves who’d let Grun and Cyth incite them to nearly kill my brother were anticlimactic, to say the least. Those folk mixed varying measures of shame and defiance into their telling, though one or two of the oldest also mentioned twenty-five years of bitter frustration because no one knew what had happened to Helglor. But Numolkhuzi, Kheluz, and Ankulaz had heard Grun crow to Yanna that he’d murdered her mother himself, and sent Kazunki to his death as well. At least those truths were spoken at last, no matter how bitter they were, no matter how long it’d take to know what to do about them.

Cyth was the last of the Kahgli folk to speak. That was the way of council, to lay out the accusers’ tales first, so that the accused understood all that they must answer for. The dam I’d come to love for her guidance, affection, and knowledge had hardly looked up during most of the tales, though she had regarded Yanna with an intensity that was hard to witness. By the time all before her had spoken, Cyth’s face was pale and still, but she didn’t hesitate to take her place in the middle of the circle to speak.

“I have no excuse.” She regarded Derfrulia steadily, with finality. “I was too quick to believe that what I did last night would make up for Helglor's murder. I forgot that the one who pretended to counsel me was a viper. Worst of all, even when the dams and maids and lads, even our precious wolfhounds, stood with Kíli, I didn’t listen. When Kíli spoke for the king’s clan, I didn’t listen. I let no one’s reason cool my madness. I am sorry now, as deeply as I should have been last night. I owe a terrible debt to Fíli, for wrongly punishing him last night. I owe another one to Kíli, for rejecting his words and his pleas for reason. And I owe still another one to all of Kahgli, for dishonoring you utterly and completely. I will not wait for banishment. When council is complete, I will call it upon myself.”

The hush that fell over the circle was complete. Folk neither moved nor spoke, nor even breathed. Something momentous had happened, and if I didn’t understand it, I recognized that it was final and irrevocable. Beside me, the unflappable Barkhuzi was as still as dead wood, and just as bleached white. Klyn laid a consoling arm around the shoulders of his _ban chéile_ , and Neyshath whined and laid his head on Barkhuzi’s knee.

Cyth returned to her place with the twelve Dwarves who’d let themselves get caught up in her fury last night.

The only one left to speak was Grun.


	53. Chapter 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the council continues, Ankulaz and Kíli work together to unravel the last bits of Grun's treachery.
> 
> Once all is known, however, Fíli and Kíli face one final tragedy, one that they didn't expect. That makes it hurt all the more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE - The last scene in this chapter contains potentially triggering content. Please read with caution.
> 
> Be safe, y'all.

Unlike Kíli, this was the first I’d seen of Yanna, Numolkhuzi, Ankulaz, and Kheluz since their attack. All of them had to be carried to the council, and were well wrapped in bandages. Kheluz and Numolkhuzi had taken wounds to the flank and groin; Yanna and Ankulaz, to the back. Seeing how badly they’d fared, I felt glad to have suffered only a shoulder wound, and to be more or less steady on my feet. I shivered to think how close all of us had come to dying.

The four wounded Kahgli Dwarves told their stories together. Ankulaz had very little voice, and labored to breathe so much that he ended up whispering to Kheluz, who repeated his words for the rest of us to hear. It took time, but gradually I sorted out that Ankulaz, then Kheluz and his herding dog, had been attacked first, then Yanna and Numolkhuzi with their wolfhounds. I thought Hassen and Tangitt must’ve been next, because they’d been on the side of the mire closest to where the others had suffered their attack. I’d been last, then Rinnala, and then Kíli’s young dogs. Both Kheluz and Numolkhuzi spoke of how Kíli’s dogs had harried Grun so badly he couldn’t come close to anyone he’d injured, so I wasn’t the only one they’d tried to protect. Without Kíli’s dogs, Grun would’ve surely killed all of us after Hassen.

Still, it was almost beyond belief that Grun had so easily killed or maimed so many competent, skilled folk, no matter how the wolfhounds had harried him. At first, I thought that the most fantastic good fortune had been Grun’s greatest asset. He’d come upon folk by ones and twos, and he’d attacked in stealth, mostly from behind, before his prey had ever seen him. But as the tales went on, I understood what else had aided his treachery.

From the beginning, he’d hidden how expert he was with his knives. He wasn’t Kíli’s equal with a bow, but yesterday he’d made the most of his skills against his fellow Dwarves without compassion or mercy, something Kíli would never have stooped to. Grun had also wielded his most potent weapon long before yesterday – neither arrow nor blade, but his serpent’s tongue. How much spite and malice had that seeded? Enough to sway twelve Dwarves to his side.

As for what he’d said to Cyth to destroy her reason... that bore no consideration. If Kíli hadn’t been so resourceful, I might’ve bled to death because of something that’d festered since before my birth.

I snuck a look at Grun while the wounded Dwarves struggled to tell their story. I saw no remorse, no penitence, no chagrin on the Urghul second’s face – rather, I saw satisfaction. If he’d managed to kill rather than wound us, he might’ve directed the blame on me long enough for him to ride back to Urghul, but that was all he seemed to regret, and even that he didn’t rue overlong. In fact, he seemed quite pleased to have wounded the heirs of three clans and many of their kin and companions, not to mention so many wolfhounds – he savored the havoc he’d wrought as if it were his favorite meat.

Why?

He had to know that he faced terrible retribution for all he’d done. Why didn’t that deter him?

Of course.

His name was Naggrundaz.

Ruinous.

Grun lived to ruin.

All along, he’d savored Kahgli’s suffering, and he still did so today – no, there was more to his perpetual half-smile than that. Even now, he drank up Cyth’s horror at what she’d done, and Derfrulia’s for the near-fatal lapse of her clan’s honor. He grinned at each Dwarf who mourned the loss of kinsman, companion, wolfhound, herding dog. He smirked at the twelve Dwarves accused beside him, because he’d taken honor and sanity from them. He regarded Ankulaz with smug satisfaction, maybe for lying to him all these many years, maybe for taking his cousin Kazunki from him by stealth, maybe for wounding him so badly. He even turned his taunting smile on me, hoping to suck down my consternation, but I kept my stare neutral and self-possessed, and he soon looked away. When his gaze tracked to Kíli, my brother stared back with the same steady, remote expression. Kíli seemed pale despite the summer warmth, but even so, soon Grun looked past him, too.

Once the wounded Dwarves had answered all questions put to them, Jiri stood to describe how the search party had ridden straight for the river, then searched east, downstream of the Lhûn, where Grun had said he’d left the Urghul and Kahgli heirs. When they’d found nothing, the party had turned upstream. The four wounded Dwarves had managed to huddle together, and most of the injured dogs, including my poor Rinnala, had dragged themselves to band with the Dwarves. Yanna was the only Dwarf able to get to her feet, and the likelihood that such seriously wounded folk would survive through the night was slim.

Fortunately, just after darkness fell, the search party heard one of the dogs bark, then, as they grew closer, more barking, then weak calls from Numolkhuzi and Kheluz. Once the search party had found the missing four, they’d raided the nearest smudge fire pit by the river for fuel, then tended the wounded through the night. It was a wonder that wolves hadn’t found them, but maybe the flies’ ongoing predations had scented the air with so much pony and antelope blood that the wolves couldn’t trail Dwarvish blood with any accuracy. Whatever the reason, the search party had sustained the wounded without having to deter wolves at the same time. This morn, as early as the flies had allowed, they’d returned home, one painful, careful step at a time.

The twelve Dwarves who’d stood with Cyth and Grun last night spoke their tales next, if such a pathetic fumble of words counted as one. None of them looked me in the eye. If Derfrulia didn’t end up casting the lot of them out, I’d be surprised, no matter how shorthanded that would leave Kahgli. Most of them were contract hunters, and had no ties to the clan, so it would be easy to cut ties with them. Cyth’s stark words garnered a mixed reaction, mostly shock when she announced her self-banishment. A thread of something skittered through the circle, something neither Kíli nor I understood, but we urged each other to hold silence with an exchange of wary looks. There would be time to sort through that later. It was time to hear from the last to speak, the one who’d wrought such devastation.

All faces turned towards Grun. Derfrulia motioned the two muscular Dwarves holding Grun to bring the Urghul into the center of the circle. They carried the bound Dwarf forward with neither kindness nor cruelty, then resumed their places behind him with the ends of his chains gripped firmly in their hands. Grun’s maddening half smile widened, as if he delighted to have so many folk looking at him.

He likely did. His appetite for ruination and lamentation was as monstrous as that of any Orc, and he’d inflicted much of both on all of us. I half expected him to reply to any question put to him with only that half smile. Or would Derfrulia even allow him to speak? No matter that it was the law that the accused were allowed to speak during council, it was dangerous. Grun would have all that remained of the clan as his audience, ripe for whatever poison, ridicule, or hatred he chose to bestow upon us. He would certainly try to incite more strife and division.

“We have told all the tales but one. Grun, what say you to all we have heard?”

The Urghul second’s half-smile widened the least bit. His pride to be at the center of such intent regard was palpable, and despite the ropes and chains that bound him, he seemed unaware of them, and confident in his mastery of those he considered less than him.

“So many tales of ruination, despair, ineptitude,” he grinned. “I savored each one more than the last.”

“You will not refute them?” Derfrulia pressed.

A soft, if incredulous, chuckle escaped Grun. “Refute? Refute what? Kahgli’s gullibility, Kahgli’s idiocy? No, every tale I heard speaks the depth of Kahgli’s many failings. Why would I choose to refute those truths?”

“What of your attacks on Kahgli? On Durin? On your own clan? You murdered three Dwarves!”

“Tell me, mighty Derfrulia,” Grun sneered, “when you put down an animal that can’t survive life on the grass, do you call that murder, or mercy? I acted no differently than you have a thousand times. I thinned the herd just as you would.”

That brought a stir and a murmur to the folk seated around Grun, and not a pleasant one. Derfrulia quieted it with a stern look right and left, but the scowls on the faces around me remained angry. Kíli looked furious, so I put a steadying hand on his knee.

“He wants us to get angry. Just like he did to Cyth last night. Don’t let him.”

“You’re right,” Kili swallowed, and did his best to look impassive again.

“Why?”

Heads turned towards Ankulaz, who had whispered that one stark syllable into the silence. Many folk weren’t sure what he’d said, so Kheluz repeated it for all to hear. Nods and an affirming murmur were quick to follow, and Derfrulia looked back at Grun, waiting for his reply.

Grun’s only reply was a silent chuckle.

“Kíli.” Ankulaz gestured weakly at my brother, beckoning to him. “I ask thee.”

What was this? My eyebrows couldn’t have gone any higher, and neither could Kíli’s. None of the Kahgli Dwarves were any less astonished.

Grun, however, didn’t look astonished. He looked wary.

I didn’t know what Ankulaz was about, but it was long past time for something to wipe that maddening half smile off Grun’s face. So when Kíli looked a question at me, I nodded, agreeing that he should see what Ankulaz wanted. Derfrulia nodded, too, so Kíli got to his feet – he’d been practicing that seemingly effortless way that Kahgli folk rose to their feet, and he did a credible job of it. If encouragement from Derfrulia and me weren’t enough, Mhornar and Alabrin flanked Kíli when he sat beside the Urghul heir.

I smiled in anticipation. When Grun looked at me, I let my smile widen, as if I knew what was about to happen.

I didn’t, but anything that made Grun worry suited me well.

 

* * *

 

As I took those few steps from Fíli’s side and folded myself down beside the injured Ankulaz, the only sound was the wind. No one spoke or moved, so high was their anticipation. Even my dogs made little sound as they settled, Alabrin at my back, and Mhornar at my side. Ankulaz lay against his pack frame, struggling for breath, but his black eyes met mine steadily.

“I haven’t the breath to speak for myself,” he whispered. “Twice you’ve tried to speak with me despite all reason to, trying to do right. Will you speak for me now, so that I can do right?”

“I will,” I agreed readily. “As long as you don’t ask me to say anything untrue.”

Ankulaz nodded acceptance, so I turned to Kheluz. “You heard what Ankulaz asked me, yes?”

The wounded Dwarf nodded. “I did.”

I turned to the rest of the council. “Ankulaz has asked me to speak his words for all to hear, and Kheluz has heard me agree to that.”

The folk around the circle murmured understanding, and Derfrulia held up her hand to signal her acceptance, so I turned back to the Urghul heir.

“Ask Naggrundaz to tell the tale of how he took his name,” Ankulaz said.

I repeated Ankulaz’s words exactly as he said them, with Grun’s full name.

When folk turned their speculative regard on the Urghul second, Grun granted them only his usual smug smile and a shrug.

“That is only mine to know,” Grun replied.

“If he will not tell it, then I will tell the story of a Dwarf named Ezrikaz,” Ankulaz said.

I gaped, and smothered a curse, but I echoed those words as I’d agreed.

A scandalized gasp rose on the last word, and why wouldn’t it?

Ezrikaz meant Most Kingly.

How could anyone, short of the highest lord Eru, who had dominion over every creature in Middle Earth, dare claim that name for his own? How could any Dwarf, dam or sire, name a bairn that? Such supreme arrogance ought to draw the instant attention of Mahal’s heaviest hammer and all the world’s thunder and lightning besides!

Grun scowled. “How do you know that name?”

I repeated the words that Ankulaz spoke to me. “Tell the tale, or I will.”

“You know nothing!” Grun spat.

“I know enough,” I repeated. “When I was very young, a dam named a bairn born only a few years after me Wyr because his hair was as pale as snow. Such pale hair isn’t common among the Urghul; only my father and I had such hair before this bairn. I was very young and thought nothing of it –”

“Because you are a fool, without wits, just as your father is,” Grun taunted, which raised an audible stir. I shot a glance at Fíli, but he gazed back impassively, silently reinforcing why we both needed to remain above Grun’s taunting. I took his encouragement to do something rash.

“He tries to make us angry,” I said loudly, staring right at Grun. “Just like last night. He tries to make us do what he wants, which is to act like mad folk. Don’t let him!”

That raised another stir, and Grun leveled his venomous glare on me. I should’ve apologized to Derfrulia for exhorting Kahgli without her permission, but I wasn’t about to be the one to look away from my adversary first. I stared back, I hoped with eerily fucking menace, and if not that, then steady calm. Fortunately, Derfrulia understood the contest, and spoke into the murmur.

“Kíli speaks the truth,” the horse maid said, which drew Grun’s eyes from me to her. “Grun tries to keep us from hearing Ankulaz’s tale by taunting us. Is Grun afraid of what we might hear? I think that is a tale well worth hearing, yah?”

“Yah!” came back in a resounding shout.

“Then we will hear it!” Derfrulia shouted back, and held her hand out to Ankulaz and me.

I looked back at Ankulaz with a suppressed grin. “Yah, good for you, Ankulaz, you’ve got him worried.”

“Imp,” Ankulaz whispered back. For the first time a bit of warmth crept into his black eyes, and his lips turned up, mirroring the slightest edge of my elation.

“Always,” I whispered back. “So tell me the next part.”

Ankulaz did, as fast as his wounds let him, and I repeated all he said for everyone to hear.

“Wyr’s dam claimed that his father and mine were one and the same, but as I grew older I thought that was not likely the case. Tobazel has always craved more than a single heir –”

“What he craved was the dowry any dam owed him when they bore his brats!” Grun shouted. “My dam didn’t come with a dowry, so he refused to recognize me!”

“It is true, my father is greedy,” I repeated from Ankulaz. “And... yes, it would be like Tobazel to reject any hold on him from a dam without a dowry. But by the time I was old enough to understand what it was to be my father’s heir, any dispute had been long ended... or so I thought.

“I was perhaps ten when I overheard Arberch, Grun’s dam, speak to him. She called him Ezrikaz, the most kingly of Dwarves, even higher than any in the king’s clan, and told him that one day, he would be vindicated and rise far past the sire who refused to recognize him. This confused me, because at that age I hadn’t seen anything but my father’s pride in me. So when Tobazel next took me with him on the grass, I told him what I’d heard.

“He was furious, so furious that I was afraid. He ruined his favorite pony riding back to the camp, which frightened me even more, so I hid.”

“Like the coward you are!” Grun snarled. “Go on, tell them what your father did then!”

“I don’t know what he did,” I repeated.

“Liar!” Grun spat. “You know what all of Urghul knows, that he beat my dam until she was close to death! You know this! Admit it!”

That raised another murmur, this one horrified. Our folk had so few maids and dams; that any sire would so badly hurt one was beyond evil.

“I... think this must be true,” Ankulaz admitted heavily, and I repeated that. “Arberch was not seen for some days after this, so yes, I believe you.”

Grun snorted as if this made up for everything that had happened since.

“After that, Wyr was different, and yes, knowing what happened to Arberch, I understand it now. I understand many things that happened afterwards. I see why you chose Naggrundaz at your naming ceremony.”

“Naming ceremony?” I asked, once I repeated Ankulaz’s words. “What’s a naming ceremony?”

The Kahgli folk looked as mystified as I, so as Ankulaz explained, I repeated his words for the rest.

“When Urghul males turn twenty, they choose their adult name. Dams choose birth names; but at twenty, when a lad is ready to take on a sire’s work, he chooses his own name. Many choose fierce names, because we must fight the land and the elements so hard to make our way. But few of us choose a name like Naggrundaz – Ruinous.”

That got another murmur, and I turned a speculative look on the bound Urghul second. What had happened next in Clan Urghul could have come right out of one of Master Balin’s tales.

“Alberch must’ve told you many times how kingly you were,” I said. “And after Tobazel punished your dam, she became angry, resentful, vindictive, cruel... likely her words to you did, too. So after hearing that for so many years, about how you and your dam were cheated, about all you were owed, you decided to punish Tobazel back. You acted like you were Urghul’s most devoted second, just to get close to Ankulaz, but secretly you set out to ruin everything Tobazel touched. Maybe you let his stock die on the grass, or didn’t bring in food from the hunts.”

Grun’s eyes narrowed. “Clever gangrel.”

I ignored the insult. “You took the name Ruinous as a further insult, because you thought Tobazel was too stupid to realize that the source of so much Urghul bad luck was right in front of him.”

That got a smile from the Urghul second.

“So Urghul fortunes faded, and Tobazel was forced to sell part of his lands for basic winter supplies,” Fíli spoke up. “And that’s when you killed Helglor, to turn the steppe clans against Urghul. That’s when Ankulaz’s dam, and Klyn’s dam, who was older sister to yours, left Urghul. That’s when the other clans chose not to send their maids to Urghul for alliance, which left no maids for Ankulaz to ally with to continue Urghul’s lineage. And that’s why Tobazel forced his way onto Kahgli lands in a last-ditch effort to ally with someone. He faced ruination otherwise.”

Grun’s smile was triumphant. “When I took my name, I hoped Tobazel would never have another peaceful night. It pleases me that I succeeded so well.”

“Why did you kill Kazunki?” someone cried out.

“Because he counseled Ankulaz against me. He countered my words –”

“Your lies,” Ankulaz said, and I quickly repeated that.

“You benefited from my counsel more than you didn’t,” Grun snarled.

“I would have benefited more if you’d never said a word to me,” Ankulaz countered. “You killed my cousin! You set me against Kahgli, saying they shunned me when they didn’t, that I’d insulted them when I didn’t.”

“Your very presence here was an insult!” Grun spat. “Your very presence anywhere is an insult!”

“And what do you call yours?” I countered. “I speak for Durin now, not Ankulaz, because you tried not once but twice to kill my brother. You didn’t do so because of any grudge you bore against Durin. You did it so folk would blame another murder on Urghul's heir, and failing that, on Kahgli. After all, why not ruin more than one clan? Why not two? Even better, three! And how sweet would it be to ruin the future of the king’s clan as well as Kahgli’s and Urghul’s?”

That met with a wide, pleased grin. “Sweet, indeed! I’m not king of any clan, but I’m greater than them all, because I brought ruination on them all. I’ll be remembered long after your brother and his gangrel abomination are long forgotten.”

“The only thing you’ll be remembered for,” Fíli’s voice rang out clearly, “is how my nineteen-year-old brother undid twenty-five years of your malice in a matter of weeks. Everyone who hears that tale will laugh at how easily your plans fell apart.”

The stir Fíli’s firm assertion raised was loud and sure, but that wasn’t what made my cheeks flame. Grun spitting one of the most obscene curses outside of Orcish at my brother didn’t cause it, either. No, that happened when Fíli got to his feet, put his good hand to his heart, and bowed to me.

Me.

I had all I could do to bow back as gravely as Fíli had bowed to me. It wasn’t every day that my brother paid me such a great honor, and in front of an entire clan. But I did my best to show him how proud and honored I was.

I was also greatly relieved.

Finally, I hadn’t let a bully – a seriously fucking evil one – get the best of me.

Finally, I’d been the one to rescue someone else.

Maybe two warring clans would take what I’d sorted out and end a feud that had never been one, too.

Finally, I was worthy to be a Durin, and my brother’s second.

I felt wonderful.

 

* * *

 

Little remained to be said after Kíli winkled out the last bit about Grun’s predations over the past many years. Ankulaz was visibly exhausted after the effort he’d made to whisper his tale for Kíli, and I worried that the wound he’d taken was much more serious than I’d thought. Still, despite the cost to himself, he bade Kíli repeat his thanks to Yanna, Kheluz, and Numolkhuzi for being so quick to see to his wounds despite their own, and also to Maaggulmuli for his attentions once the search party found him and the others. The most important words were his promise to end the conflict between Urghul and Kahgli, and to make amends with the other clans Grun’s predations had harmed, Durin among them.

“I thank thee for thy promise,” Derfrulia bowed to the injured Urghul heir. “It’s long past time that we end this feud, and I look forward to doing so. I will consider all that we have heard today with all care and consideration, so that what I decide for all is fair. Kíli, I thank thee for your aid to Ankulaz. I dismiss council.”

I was relieved that the proceedings were done. It’d been a long, tiring time, and dark was almost upon us. The flies had started to rise; everyone was glad to yank their head cloths over their faces and run headlong for the salve pot. Derfrulia quickly set the duties, essential given that nothing had been done last night to see to the stock. The twelve Dwarves who’d sided with Grun and Cyth last night would spend the night under confinement, as would Grun. That left the Kahgli ranks pitifully depleted, so I volunteered to see to the beacon fire, which Derfrulia gratefully accepted. Kíli, given that he was one of the few able-bodied Dwarves who’d gotten even a few hours of sleep last night, volunteered to go out on the grass. So short-handed were we that Maraz, the lame, one-time herder who did all the heaviest chores around the tents, gathered all the bairns together to watch them so their dams, even the pregnant one, could supplement the folk out on the grass.

Kíli helped the folk who bore the wounded back to the healer’s tent so that they would be well looked after away from the plague of flies. He also helped gather the fuel needed to fire the pyre for Kheluz's dog, Braungaraz, and Hassen's dog, Tangitt. How proud I was of him, first to speak truly when he repeated Ankulaz’s tale, and then to work through the tangles that’d remained after. What he’d borne in Thorin’s Halls had made him an outsider there, but that was exactly what had helped him today. My little brother had taken all he’d gleaned from Master Balin’s dusty tales, added what he’d learned from the bullies, mixed them with what we’d heard today, let the combination roll around in his head, and then come up with the pieces still untold. Master Balin would be astonished!

I savored a private grin. I’d never tell Master Balin that my brother hadn’t slept through nearly as many lessons as anyone had thought. Kíli would be far better off if everyone left him to consider things his way.

Eerily fucking menace, indeed.

Kíli was quickly back to help Rinnala to her feet, then me to mine, then lent his arm to me as we traipsed first to the dogs’ place to feed our devoted companions, then the kitchen fires for something to eat, and then to the tent to find me enough clothing to make do for my missing boots. Kíli promised to ride out tomorrow to the mire to see if he could find my boots and my bow, which I greatly appreciated. Finally, on we went to the beacon fire. Once we were there, and he’d helped Rinnala and me find a comfortable seat, he gave me a big hug, albeit a careful one, given my punctured shoulder.

“I’m glad I did you proud today, brother,” he murmured softly, before he let me go. “Finally, I did.”

“Stop it,” I replied, poking him with my elbow. “You’ve always done me proud... except that time you locked me in the chicken coop. You were a fucking do kro that day.”

“Maybe,” was my brother’s gleeful snort as he elbowed me back. “But you have to admit that it was the perfect prank.”

“Maamr made you chop all the wood for a week, and clean the chicken coop out twice for it,” I snorted back. “If that’s what you call perfect, you really are a doh kro.”

“Fíli,” a soft call came from behind us. “Kíli.”

Cyth’s voice was such a thin, quiet whisper that it sounded more ghostly than Dwarvish. She looked no less ghostly; in the twilight, her pale face was lined and sunken, her eyes were full of misery, and her body was hunched, falling in on itself. Her head was bare of her headscarf, and she wore only a sleeveless undertunic and breeches, not even boots. Flies buzzed around her, but she seemed not to notice them. Neither Kíli nor I had a chance to say anything before she abased herself before us, laying her forehead on my bare feet, then Kíli’s boots still coated with the mud he’d churned up for me last night.

“I am sorry,” she said simply. “I went mad. I lost all sense. I violated all honor. Please don’t hold Kahgli at fault for my evil. I should have remembered the good and honest hearts that beat in your chests, but I didn’t. It is fit that I do not disgrace Kahgli grass any longer.”

I’d never confronted such... finality before. My throat closed as the dam got to her feet, offered us a bow over her palms, and turned away. She walked out to the grass, turned to the northeast, and didn’t look back.

All at once, I understood. I _had_ confronted such finality before, not even half a year ago.

“Oh, Valar,” I swallowed. “Oh, Valar, Valar...”

“Wh-what just happened?” Kíli quavered, looking between the retreating Cyth and me. “Sh-she’s leaving the clan? Now? Where’s her pony? Her things? Why doesn’t she wait for the morn? And why did she go northeast when there’s nothing that way but grass, antelope, and wolves? The Kahgli village is to the west, isn’t it?”

“She-she’s... oh, Valar, Kíli, Valar...”

“What’s happening?” Kíli demanded, clutching my arm. “The flies, the wolves – she won’t last the night!”

I couldn’t speak, and if my eyes grew damp, I didn’t apologize for it. Maybe Kíli saw them, because his eyes went wide like a trapped animal, and his fingers on my arm tightened to the point of pain.

“She’s... committing s-suicide. L-like I tried to.”

“N-not like you tried to, Kíli. You didn’t do anything wrong. Cyth... did do something wrong. Kahgli's ways are different... so... this is how she chooses to atone for it. It’s not the same.”

“She’s still going to die,” Kíli whispered. Tears welled in his eyes and hung there trembling on his lashes before spilling down his cheeks.

I nodded.

I don’t know which of us choked first, and it didn’t matter.


	54. Chapter 54

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grun's already inflicted so much devastation on Clan Kahgli. Will he claim one more victim?
> 
> Fíli and Kíli are determined to have something to say about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> kurksog reguurz kurvanog skator daguli thrug = crucify all lying, fucking, hell-demon murderers (Orcish)  
> nar those kurvanog = fucking eunuch (Orcish)

“I can’t do it, Fíli. I can’t let Cyth will herself to death. I can’t.”

“Kíli –”

“I can’t, Fíli!” Kíli choked. “You wouldn’t let me, so how can I let her? I can’t!”

“I know, I know!” I assured him with no less intensity. “I can’t, either. Kíli. I won’t.”

My brother hugged me hard, then scrambled away. When both of his dogs lunged after him, Rinnala whined and whimpered beside me, struggling to get to her feet. I was no less agitated, so no matter how much I pulled my shoulder to do it, I put my arms around Rinnala’s barrel chest and helped her stagger upright. I got myself on my feet right after, and we struggled to follow Kíli, but we didn’t get far before he loomed out of the dark. He had the halter ropes of one of the big horses in his fist – oh, Valar, it was huge Lathga.

“You have to come, too,” Kíli panted. “I’m sorry, Fíli, I know you’re hurt, but please, you have to come with me.”

I didn’t hesitate. “Quick, give me a leg up. Before someone sees us.”

“I don’t care if they do.”

Kíli put the end of Lathga’s halter ropes under his boot, and interlaced his fingers. I scrambled beside the big horse; when I put my foot in Kíli’s hands, he all but hurled me up and over Lathga’s wide back. Then he stooped beside Rinala and Alabrin.

“Stay, Rinnala. Stay here. Alabrin, stay with Rinnala. Stay with Rinnala. Protect her, please!”

Both dogs whined in disagreement, but Alabrin nosed my poor laboring queen as if to show he’d do as Kíli asked. Then Kíli thrust both of the halter ropes into my hands, as well as a wad of canvas he’d probably taken from the horses’ cleaning rags.

“Hold him steady, Fíl,” Kíli said. He backed off some distance directly behind Lathga, made a quick run, and vaulted himself onto Lathga’s back, landing behind me with a thump. He took the halter ropes from me to turn Lathga northeast. “Grab his mane to steady yourself, brother. Yah, Mhornar! Grimmdrengi! Doksturm! Makkwyr! Find Cyth! Find Cyth!”

He called again to the young dogs that liked to trail him, at least those still fit to do so. Kíli didn’t wait for them to appear; as soon as I had a tight hold on Lathga’s mane, he called to the stallion and sent us hurtling over the grass. Mhornar surged ahead; she might not have the nose that the herding dogs did, but her sense of smell was better than ours, and she knew Cyth’s scent well. A pale shadow streaked by – yah, that was Doksturm’s white and grey swirled fur, and maybe the darker Grimmdrengi was off her shoulder. Valar, the flies were thick! All that saved us was how fast we flew aback Lathga. Kíli held the big horse back a bit to give his dogs the chance to find the dam, and only a few moments passed before whuffs and barks told us where to go. As Kíli slowed Lathga to a walk, we strained to catch sight and sound of the dogs.

Mhornar suddenly bounded beside us, bounced her front paws on Kíli’s thigh, and darted away again. Kíli pulled Lathga to a stop.

“Can you hold Lathga?” my brother asked.

“I’ll hold him,” I assured him, taking the halter ropes in both hands, never mind my shoulder. “Be quick, before the flies take us all.”

Kíli slid off Lathga’s back and raced after his dogs. It wasn’t easy holding the restive stallion against the stinging flies that descended on us, but I trotted him in a circle and talked to him the way Kíli did, and he held for me, no matter how much his skin twitched and his tail thrashed. I tried to help by sweeping away as many as I could, but an eternity passed before Kíli reappeared carrying Cyth against his chest. I drew Lathga at a stop so Kíli could heave the dam up to me. He’d swathed her in the canvas he’d brought, but it was clear she hadn’t come easily – she still struggled to get herself out of Kíli’s stubborn grip.

“Let me go!” she shrieked. “I can’t go back, not after what I’ve done! I can’t!”

“Yes, you can!” Kíli shouted back, dodging a flailing arm. “If I can, you can! You can!”

“No!” Cyth fought with surprising strength for such a small, slender, aged dam. “I have no honor!”

“Kíli, I can’t hold Lathga much longer!” I shouted. “The flies!”

“ _Kurksog reguurz kurvanog_ s _kator daguli thrug_!” Kíli swore. In desperation, he gave Cyth a furious shake. “How is it honorable to let that _nar thos kurvanog_ Urghul bastard make you take your life? You can’t let him do that!”

“I should never have listened to him, but I did! I dishonored myself, my clan, the very grass!”

Another furious shake. “Killing yourself doesn’t clear your honor! It leaves it in ruins! It means Grun wins! Is that what you want?”

“My doing nearly killed your brother! How can I atone for that dishonor?”

“Killing yourself doesn’t fucking atone for it, does it?” Kíli snarled. “Fucking hell, Cyth, stop fighting so I can get you on the horse!”

Whether Cyth was impressed or stunned by Kíli’s fury – or maybe Kíli’s Orcish epithets – she stopped fighting long enough for Kíli to seize her wrist and hold it up to me. I grabbed it, Kíli shoved from behind, and between us, we hauled Cyth up behind me. Lathga was close to mania by now from all the diving flies, and the stink of the blood covering Cyth didn’t help. Kíli did his vaulting leap to get himself behind Cyth, but he couldn’t reach the halter ropes, especially not when Cyth tried to push herself off the horse.

“Latch onto my belt, Kíli!” I shouted. “Pin her between us, and hang on!”

Kíli clamped both hands onto my belt like vises, squashing Cyth between us. She didn’t have the strength to fight Kíli’s hold, so I got Lathga turned around and raked the horizon for the beacon fire –

Valar, I was the one who was supposed to have lit it, but instead, I’d gone racing out on the grass without a dog, a weapon, even boots. But Lathga could get us home, couldn’t he? Or the dogs?

Thank the Valar; someone had covered my lapse, for there was the flame of the beacon fire, beckoning us back to sanity. I pointed Lathga towards that welcome light, and he raced towards it before I asked.

What would we do when we got back to the tents? For all I knew, it was accepted, even approved, for folk to vanish over the grass when they felt their time was nigh. What if we dragged Cyth back only to have the rest of Kahgli make us let her go? What if we kept her safe now, only to have her waste away come winter, because she’d lost her will to live? Was that kind?

I had no answers. But Kíli had the right idea, born of the despair he’d suffered back in Thorin’s Halls. Maybe Cyth saw this as such a horrific dishonor that death seemed the only fit payment. But that meant Grun’s malice would claim another life, and tear another hole in the web that bound Kahgli together. Somehow, Kíli and I had to persuade Cyth not to let Grun destroy her after he’d already destroyed so much. Maybe we’d have to convince the rest of Kahgli, too.

We had to try, no matter how it turned out.

As soon as I got close enough to the tents, I sent out a shout.

“Barkhuzi! Klyn! Help! Help!”

I drew Lathga up by the beacon fire, letting the smoke drive the flies away so that the horse wasn’t so galled. When he was calm enough, I looked back at Kíli.

“Get her off and hold on to her, Kíl. Don’t let her go.”

Kíli slid off, taking Cyth with him. “I’ve got her, Fíli. I’ve got her.”

I looked back, and saw the truth of that. My brother carried Cyth to the fire and folded down on his knees to hold the old dam tightly against his chest. As Barkhuzi, then Klyn, ran up to us, Cyth crumpled in on herself, and wailed. My poor brother knew better than any of us what she might feel – likely the same broken release of emotion that he’d felt when I’d tackled him in the snow and refused to let him give in to his despair. He’d been silent, limp, and numb when I’d brought him home, and while Cyth was far from silent, she was just as devastated as Kíli had been. Kíli’s eyes filled with tears, perhaps remembering that moment, and he wrapped his arms tightly around Cyth, not to hold her by force, but to tell her than he was beside her.

“Barkhuzi, would you hold Lathga? And lend me an arm? I need to get down,” I asked, as more folk rushed up. My friend looked dazed as if he didn’t understand the scene before me, and likely he didn’t, but he took Lathga’s halter ropes automatically, and Klyn held his arms out to steady me as I slid off gingerly. “I’ll see to Lathga in a moment, Khuzi, I promise, but there’s something I have to do first.”

I didn’t wait to see if Barkhuzi had registered my words, but limped right to Kíli and Cyth. The dam keened as if her spirit strained to leave her, which sent a hopeless, desolate sound up on the wind. In the firelight, Kíli’s eyes were wide, unsure of what to do or say. But his arms never loosened around Cyth, no matter how bloody the flies had left her.

“Cyth, look at me,” I pleaded. “It’s Fíli. You don’t have to die out on the grass, not for this. You don’t.”

“It’s the only fit thing to do!” the dam wailed. “That’s our way! You have to let me go!”

I took the dam’s hands and squeezed them. “One day, yes, we will have to let you go. But it won’t be because a viper and a bully misled you, just as he has so many others. You heard him in the council – he’s lived only to ruin everything he touches. He’s done so much harm already. You can’t let him do so again.”

The folk gathered around us murmured, but no one interrupted, so I met Kíli’s eyes. “It never works to give in to bullies, does it, brother?”

“It doesn’t, Cyth,” Kíli replied firmly. “That makes them stronger, and us weaker. So if the time comes when we’re afraid we’ll give in to them, we find someone to stand with us, to help us be strong. Fíli stood beside me once, and look at all I’ve gained because he did! I’m here on the grass; I have Mhornar and Alabrin, and Khuzi and Klyn, and you and all of Kahgli. And look at all the wonderful things I’ve learned. That’s why Fíli and I are here now, to stand with you.”

That set up another murmur, this one unsettled. Cyth seemed no more convinced. Her hands tightened on mine, but in desperation rather than conviction.

“You don’t understand honor. Kahgli honor.”

“Maybe not,” I said. “But I understand what a horror it would be if someone I love dies a useless death. It’s a horror that doesn’t ease. Don’t inflict that on your family because of what Grun did. He’s not worth that sacrifice, that loss.”

Cyth turned her ravaged face away from Kíli’s chest, towards me. “How can you say such things? I wanted you to die!”

“I think... Grun made you think that Yanna had died as Helglor did, and made you want both murderers to die for it. I was just in the way,” I ventured. “Yes?”

“Even that can’t justify what I did to you! I did evil!”

It came to me in a flash what to say next. I held Cyth’s hands firmly, as if my grip could persuade her of what I was about to say.

“I forgive you for what you did, Cyth. I take no insult, none. There’s nothing for you to claim dishonor for on my part.”

Valar, that sent up a stir of surprise. I looked up at Kíli, but a wide, approving smile wreathed his face.

“Course Fíli forgives you,” Kíli said. “It takes more than a few flies to bother him, doesn’t it? He’s a stubborn do kro!”

“Maybe I’m a stubborn do kro, but I’m not too proud to accept help from mud and goatsweed smoke against those flies,” I gave Kíli a grateful nod.

Barkhuzi was on his knees beside his great-grandmother, taking one of her hands from me. “You’d do this? Forgive the insult?”

“She meant no insult,” I said firmly. “Grun did, not your great-grandmother. He took advantage, just as he did of Ankulaz, Yanna, Kheluz, Numolkhuzi, Hassen, and all the dogs. It was his words that made her despair, his words that made her rage. So if insult was dealt to me, she was only the bow that Grun used to shoot his arrow at me.”

Barkhuzi looked back at his grandmother, who had shouldered her way to the front of the folk surrounding us. Derfrulia’s stern expression had faded into a confused, or maybe disbelieving, frown.

“You heard Fíli,” my brother said into the silence. “Kahgli’s done no insult to him. Durin takes no insult. None.”

Feet shifted, but maybe so did the consideration of many.

“Please,” Kíli said softly. “Enough folk have died, or been hurt, haven’t they? It has to stop. Just... stop.”

It took a long moment before anyone said anything, but eventually Derfrulia held up her hands, I hoped conceding to Kíli's plea.

“Kahgli thanks thee,” the horse maid said, and bowed deeply to us. Behind and around her, so did the rest of the folk. I was glad for the darkness and the flickering firelight, because it hid my flaming cheeks. I hadn’t expected this to turn into such a public appeal, but such was life among the tents. Nothing outside of one’s blankets was ever private.

Ilka came out of the throng to help Kíli and Barkhuzi get Cyth to her feet. “We’ll see to her,” the young dam assured us.

“Don’t let anything happen to her,” Kíli insisted before he let Barkhuzi lift Cyth into his arms. “It wasn’t her fault. And don’t leave her alone. She needs to be with gentle folk.”

“She will be,” Ilka nodded. “Come, Barkhuzi, into the tent.”

“I thank thee,” the young red-haired Dwarf murmured, before he followed his dam back to the family tent. That still left the rest of the folk to stand around us, maybe not knowing what to do next. I suddenly felt very tired.

“It’s done,” I said to everyone and no one. “Nothing more to talk about.”

Thankfully, folk drifted away, intent once more on their tasks.

“Oh, Valar, I feel like I’ve been in a war,” Kíli breathed, as he helped me to my feet. “I’d rather fight off three wolves rather than go through that again.”

“Me, too.”

“Maybe you can look in on Cyth later? I’ve got to go out on the grass.”

“Not before I have my say,” Derfrulia said, arms akimbo.

I winced. There was no use denying the obvious, so I held up my hands as Derfrulia had. “I know, I know – we took a horse without permission, we ran out onto the grass without a weapon, or even boots, we ran roughshod over Kahgli tradition and ways, and we were reckless with the wolfhounds. We humbly apologize.”

“You might, but I don’t,” Kíli said in a mutinous mutter. “Eh... yah, about Lathga, I’m sorry. But Fíli couldn’t help the boots. His are out on the grass somewhere. I’ll look for them tomorrow, I promise.”

How unexpected was it to hear Derfrulia’s near-silent chuckle?

“By all Mahal holds dear, the pair of you must set your dam crazy at least twice a day,” the horse maid shook her head. “But the pair of you must be one of the things Mahal holds most dear, because your antics always come out right in the end.”

Kíli gave me a secret smile. It wasn’t as gleeful as his usual, but given the night’s drama, he could be forgiven for that. As Derfrulia was right in front of me, I couldn’t return his expression, so I tried to look inscrutable, albeit thoughtfully so.

“We... try to do Mahal justice as much as possible,” I ventured.

“I’m sure,” was Derfrulia’s dry rejoinder. “Both of you think fast on your feet, I’ll give you that.”

Derfrulia didn’t know the first thing about the truth of that, and I wouldn’t tell her. We’d spend the next six months stuck in a tent, under guard, if I told even a tenth of those tales. So I continued to look inscrutable, and by now, Kíli did, too.

“Thank you,” was all I’d concede.

“I thank thee for much more,” Derfrulia said softly. “It was wise of you to show us how Grun had wounded Cyth as badly as he did so many others. It was kind of you to forgive her. And it was diplomatic to say you took no insult. I would not have stopped Cyth’s choice – no one in Kahgli would have, for we pride ourselves on taking responsibility for our actions –”

“Tell Grun that,” Kíli growled. “Cyth didn’t have a chance against that snake.”

Derfrulia held up her hands. “As I was about to say, Kíli, sometimes who is responsible isn’t all of the tale. Durin showed us the truth of that, and nimbly so.”

“I’m flattered that you thought I was wise.” I glanced at Kíli, but I wasn’t willing to speak about the snowy day where Kíli’s despair had almost taken him from me. “I wasn’t. I just... didn’t think Cyth was ultimately to blame. That’s all.”

Derfrulia likely divined everything I didn’t say from the look Kíli and I shared. At least the horse maid was kind enough not to say so. Instead, she smiled, not as the matriarch of Kahgli, but as one Dwarf to another.

“You saved your brother, and both of you saved my mother. When you return to Thorin’s Halls in the spring, expect to take a hand’s worth of Kahgli’s finest ponies with you, in addition to your year’s wages. In appreciation for your nimble thinking.”

The horse maid stuck out her hand to us. After a quick exchange of looks, Kíli and I slapped her hand in turn, then she slapped ours.

“Good bargain,” Derfrulia nodded, and turned back to her duties before either Kíli or I could thank her for her generosity. We were left to regard each other in the smoky light of the beacon fire.

“Did she... just give us five ponies?” Kíli asked.

“She did.”

Kíli’s hum was impressed. “Maamr won’t believe how we got them. Nor Uncle.”

I hummed in agreement. “So... maybe we shouldn’t tell them.”

“No. Wouldn’t want them to think we’d engaged in diplomacy or such like.”

“No, that wouldn’t be wise.”

“Not at all. Better they think we’re both still irresponsible.”

“That’d be best.”

“Yah.” Kíli heaved a sigh, and looked out towards the pony enclosure. “Eh, I’m still due to go out on the grass, so best I find Arkhanneh. And I’d better make sure Lathga’s all right. You’ll be all right with the beacon?”

“I’ll be all right. Make sure you take your salve with you. And Alabrin. And any of the other dogs.”

“I will. Thank you, Fíl.”

“You, too, Kíl. Safe night.”

“You, too.”

My brother clasped my healthy shoulder, then he, Mhornar, and Alabrin faded into the darkness. I dragged the fuel basket near, and helped Rinnala sit beside me.

At last, the night was still.


	55. Chapter 55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derfrulia passes judgment on Kahgli.

Leaving Fíli by the beacon fire, I went off to check that someone had seen to Lathga. As Barkhuzi had accompanied Ilka and Cyth to the family tent, it was like Klyn who'd taken the big horse back to his protected enclosure and tended him. I gave Lathga's nose an appreciative rub, then headed to the family tent to collect what I needed to go out on the grass. I tiptoed, not wanting to disturb the huddle of people in Cyth's space at the back of the tent, and exited as soon as I collected bow, quiver, knives, tunic, head scarf, and salve pot. Outside, I smeared salve all over Alabrin, Mhornar, and me, which left me feeling more than grimy; my skin burned, too, thanks to the greedy pests that’d left so many welts and trails of blood in their wake. Fíli must feel worse, given how bitten he already was, on top of his kicked knee and his mangled shoulder. I was glad to have escaped with only a few welts.

I collected my pony for the night, and searched for my usual duty companion, my mentor Arkhanneh. But tonight’s duty would not be usual.

“She’s already gone out, Kíli,” Derfrulia said. She was the one to tend the cooking pots this eve instead of Cyth, which gave me a pang. “You know what to do, so take the grass upstream of the mire, and stay on this side of the river. Use the smudge fires and the beacon fires to guide you. And if any of the young dogs want to go with you, all the better.”

“Yes, Derfrulia.” I was gratified that the horse maid trusted me to fend for myself, but apprehensive as well, because we were so short of folk to guard the herd. But that would ease, once more folk snatched a few hours of sleep to compensate for last night’s nightmare. I got astride my pony and called to the dogs. It cheered me when Grimmdrengi, Doksturm, and Makkwyr joined Alabrin and Mhornar as I guided my pony away from the tents.

Yah, there were the three smudge fires lit up and down the river, so I angled left to patrol where Derfrulia had bid me. The organic stench from the mire would keep me out of it, and so would the dogs. Still I rode right up to the edge of the sticky bit, making sure that no pony had gotten bogged down as it tried to slather a coat of mud over its hide. While I was at it, maybe I’d stumble across Fíli’s bow, or his sword in its scabbard.

As I patrolled, I sang one of Maamr’s lullabies, which calmed me as well as the ponies. I looked at the stars, so bright as they threaded in and out of sparse clouds. Klyn had said what a good storyteller Barkhuzi was, that he knew all the tales of how the constellations had come to be. Maybe I’d hear them one day, if not out on the grass, then maybe when the clan hunkered down in their winter quarters, passing the time while the snows blew. Maybe Fíli and I could tell some of Master Balin’s more exciting tales, or Master Dwalin’s. Both had been at Erebor when it had fallen to the firedrake, and at Azanulbizar outside the gates of Moria...

I winced. Kahgli had suffered so much loss right here on the grass, and all at the hands of a single rogue Urghul Dwarf. They didn’t need to hear tales of what else our folk had lost. Compared to Elves and Men, or even Orcs and Goblins, Dwarves no longer held an ancestral home. We’d lost every one we’d once had. Belegost and Nogrod had been our strongholds in the Blue Mountains during the First Age. When both had been destroyed in the great War of Wrath, Durin had founded our greatest kingdom, Khazad-dûm, in the Misty Mountains, which fell to the Balrog. Many of our folk went north to the Grey Mountains, only to flee to the Iron Hills after a coldrake killed my uncle’s namesake, Thorin I. A few wandered to the Lonely Mountain to found Erebor. Then that had been lost to the firedrake, and so my folk had scattered again. Now most of us hunkered down on lands no one else wanted, no more settled among mountains and glens than Kahgli on the grass.

We belonged nowhere.

I shook myself out of my depressing reverie. After Khazad-dûm had fallen, a few Dwarves came full circle back to the Blue Mountains. They'd founded Thorin’s Halls north of where Belegost and Nogrod had once stood, and Maamr and Uncle had made a good life for our folk there. Our folk were not the only ones to suffer loss, either; the great Elvish kingdoms had waned, their folk all but gone to their land across the sea, and Men were still so few that they struggled to establish a precarious hold anywhere. So better to be grateful for what my folk had, rather than mourn what we hadn’t.

To lift my spirits, I thought about how unselfish my brother had been to go with me after Cyth, then generous to offer forgiveness for inciting something that could’ve claimed his life. That was like him – no matter the danger to himself, he knew exactly what to say to hearten folk. Folk found my brother likeable, trustworthy, and easy to follow, and he’d make a fit leader after Uncle Thorin one day. I was quick to pick up nuances, inclinations, and other odd things, all information that a ruler needed to govern fairly and well, and to my delight Fíli recognized and valued that in me. When my brother came to rule, it’d be my pleasure to support him, and between the two of us, we’d serve our folk well.

I snickered. I’d better stop dwelling on my brother’s talents for government, and pay attention to the ponies on the grass, or I’d find myself in trouble even five dogs couldn’t get me out of.

The night passed without incident. My pony, the dogs, and I all reeked so strongly of goatsweed salve that the flies didn’t pester us so badly, but I stayed well swathed despite the heat. I circled around and around, humming to tell the ponies that I was here, shooing the rare simple one away from the mire, urging the frantic ones towards the flickering smudge fires.

“Yah, that way, poor thing,” I coaxed, smacking the hindquarters of one to urge him along. “Smoky fire means fewer flies, doesn’t it? Yah, go on with you. That’s right, Grimmdrengi, help Mhornar, and get yon pony on his way.”

As dawn grew nigh, the sky lightened enough that I circled the mire again to look for any glint from Fíli’s sword. I found none... of course not – why would I? Grun wouldn’t have left my brother’s clothing and weapons in plain sight, because we’d searched here yesterday and hadn’t found them. Perhaps he’d thrown everything into the mire itself? No, I’d nearly sunk myself in the muck looking for Fíli yesterday, so unless Grun had sunk my brother’s things under the surface, I should’ve seen something.

Hmm... Grun _hadn’t_ been muddy when he’d staggered back to the tents, but he _had_ been wet.

Fíli remembered being dragged over the ground, and being underwater so long that he’d expected to drown. He’d had to cross the river to get home, too. Rinnala and my dogs wouldn’t have let Grun strip Fíli without a fight, so maybe Grun had dragged him across the river to escape their harassment, and then had stripped him on the far side.

An hour or so after dawn, once someone came out to relieve me, I urged my pony across the river, and headed upstream. One by one, the dogs came across behind me, shaking the water off their long fur in a storm. I nocked an arrow, then called to Mhornar and Alabrin.

“Find Fíli’s things?” I asked tentatively, pointing upstream. “Find Fíli?”

Mhornar’s expression was skeptical, for she knew that Fíli was back by the tents. But I rode forward, calling and pointing ahead rather than behind, and the dogs trailed after me as if to say, oh, well, he feeds us, so we’ll humor him for a moment or two. I rode only a few feet away from the river’s edge, for Fíli had said he’d awakened barely out of the water. I urged my pony to a canter, hoping that I’d come across some sign before too much time passed.

I must’ve gone over a mile without sign of anything, but I kept my eyes on the muddy bank...

Yah, there!

A blurred impression of a bare Dwarvish foot was dried and crumbling, but it was a print all the same. Was this where Fíli had crossed the river?

I urged my pony on, calling to the dogs. Oh and oh and oh, not even two hundred yards past the footprint, the dogs raced ahead of me. Was that a glint in the early morn sun?

We’d found my brother’s prized sword. Just beyond were his bow and quiver, and just beyond that, his clothes.

No boots.

I circled the scattered discards, but I didn’t search too hard for my brother’s missing boots. It was too much to hope that I’d find them, not with the wolves so hungry during the plague of flies. At least I’d recovered the most important things – his weapons. The tunic, trews, and other bits were good extras, too.

Under the watchful eyes of my dogs, I collected Fíli’s things, then quickly set off for home. Kahgli had endured enough during the last two days, and didn’t need to agonize over how I’d spent the early morn after watch. Fortunately, my side expedition went unnoticed, and I came upon the tents to find calm and quiet.

Grun was some distance from the grass with his two weighty guards, still in chains, but I didn’t look at him. I was proud that Fíli had been merciful to Cyth for what he’d endured, but I didn’t feel that way about Grun. I’d never killed a Dwarf, and didn’t want to... but if I had to start, Grun was an apt target. On the other hand, the thought of sullying my arrows or blades with his tainted blood bore no consideration. It was likely as black as Orc blood, and just as corrosive.

I rode past without a direct glance at the prisoner, and instead looked for my brother. There he was, sitting with Rinnala just downwind of the kitchen fires. Happily, he didn’t look feverish this morn, though his arm was still in its sling. He had a bowl of something cradled in his lap and a teacup beside him.

“Yah, Fíli! Look what I found!” I heralded, holding up his bow.

“Valar, Kíli, first my knives, and now my bow!” Fíli waved his spoon when Mhornar and Alabrin ran towards him to greet Rinnala. “Thank you, brother!”

“That’s not all,” I said, sliding off my pony. “I found your sword, your quiver with most of the arrows, and your clothes, too. Everything but your boots.”

“That’s stellar,” Fíli smiled. “A hungry wolf or a fox probably made a fine meal of my boots, but it’s grand to have the rest back. Maybe I can trade something for boots – one of my knives, maybe. I can’t go long without boots between me and the grass.”

“You need boots?” Ilka looked up from the salve pot she tended. Right now, it held only melting antelope fat, for no one had brought in the daily harvest of goatsweed leaves yet.

“Yah, neither Kíli nor I brought spares,” Fíli replied with a chagrined shrug. “We thought we’d save space in our baggage, but extra boots would’ve been worth the space, given how important they are.”

“Don’t trade for any just yet,” the young dam told us. “I’ve an idea that might do some good in one place, and save you a knife in another. Would you stir the kettle?”

“I will,” Fíli volunteered. He gulped down his tea and clambered to his feet. “Go see to your pony and feed your dogs, Kíli. I’ve got this.”

“They’ve got to rest a bit,” I demurred, as Ilka gave Fíli the long stirring pole and strode away with Issi on her hip. Once the young dam moved out of earshot, I leaned closer to Fíli. “I didn’t want to send the tents into panic by coming off the grass late. I found your things over a mile upstream of the mire, so I came back at speed.”

Fíli grimaced. “No wonder I thought I’d never get home.”

“You’re made of stern stuff,” I encouraged. “I’ll see to my pony, then I’ll be back.”

At Fíli’s nod, off I went to unsaddle and brush my pony. That done, I hurried back, eager to get some breakfast while my dogs rested a bit longer. The stew was hot, so ladled out a bowl for myself.

“Hmm. No porridge.”

“Yah, Ilka said we’re so low on porridge that what’s left goes to the bairns,” Fíli replied. “The flour’s almost out, too. So we’ll have to make do with meat and stew for a while.”

I dug out my boot knife to spear the chunks of meat in my bowl. “I wonder when the caravan’s due back?”

“Any day, from what Ilka said. The flies might hold things up, or they might speed them up, too.”

I grunted understanding. “How’s the camp this morn?”

“Simmering, but not angry,” Fíli murmured as he stirred. “Derfrulia did sleep last night, but she’s been huddled with the senior herders and hunters since dawn. Maybe they’re trying to decide what to do about the dozen Dwarves who staked me out on the grass. I think I complicated matters when I forgave Cyth. If I took no insult from her, what does Derfrulia do about the ones who listened to her?”

I hummed, thinking that over. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Nor had I. So I’m thinking about it now, in case anyone asks me my opinion, which they might well not.”

I hummed again. “What do you think so far?”

“They could claim the same thing Cyth did, that Grun incited them.” When I hummed this time, Fíli snorted. “Valar, Kíl, you sound like that beehive again."

I snickered. “My head’s as full of thoughts as your hive is full of bees, I suppose.”

“I hope so. Tell me what you think about those dozen Dwarves.”

I hummed again, loudly so Fíli knew I teased him. When my brother rolled his eyes, I took pity on him and stopped humming. “They could claim Grun incited them, too, but...”

“But what?”

“Everybody heard Grun and Cyth after him, but not everybody heeded them. All the dams and maids and a right lot of the sires and lads stood with you. And every one of the dogs, even those who held to the twelve Dwarves.”

“Truth,” Fíli nodded.

“Just because you forgave Cyth doesn’t mean you have to let off the ones who staked you out on the grass.”

“I don’t want to, to be honest,” Fíli confessed. “I just... need to find a reason that makes sense, is fair, and doesn’t look like I played favorites.”

“Cyth just talked about it – no, wait, it was Grun’s idea to stake you out on the grass. So maybe Cyth seconded that, but she didn’t actually follow through with it. Those twelve lads did.”

“She told the clan to do it, though.”

“Not everyone in the clan listened.”

“They thought I was after Yanna.” Fíli’s normally open expression flinched into a grimace. “That I had r-raped and murdered her.”

“Grun tried to poison everyone with rumors from the start. Most folk knew they were poison, and said so. Those twelve didn’t listen to their own clan folk, so they’re either simple, gullible, or envious of you.”

Fíli grinned as I shoveled in my stew. “Valar, brother, you’ll out-argue Uncle and Master Balin at the same time before long.”

“It doesn’t take any effort to out-argue this, Fíl,” I shook my spoon at him. “Cyth was vulnerable, and Grun took gross advantage. Those twelve lads weren’t in the same position.”

“I agree with you,” Fíli gave the pot a stir to keep the antelope fat from boiling. “I just wanted to see what you thought about it.”

“Same as you. So what do you think Derfrulia will do about it?”

Fíli shook his head. “I don’t know. Most of the dozen are contract hunters and herders, just as we are. Maybe she’ll send them away. Maybe they’ll have to atone some other way.”

“If you had a say, what would you do?” I asked, getting another bowl of stew.

Fíli thought about it long and hard. “I think... I don’t know enough about justice on the grass to say. Besides, you know every piece of canvas has ears, so better I say that whatever Derfrulia decides, I’ll accept.”

Fíli told the truth about even the canvas having ears. One of the reasons Grun’s rumors had run so rampant was that Kahgli folk debated everything back and forth as a matter of course. That habit was usually the reason why folk stayed in accord; everything was discussed and considered for so long that anything stupid was soon discarded. But Grun’s insinuations had been subject to such wide interpretation that consensus had been much harder to reach. I didn’t want to give any more grist to the common mill, so I followed Fíli’s discretion.

“Wise,” I agreed, and looked to Mhornar, Alabrin, and the three bairn dogs. “All right, you lot, are you rested now? Well ready for your morn meat, yes?”

The dogs immediately stood up, which made me snicker. “What about Rinnala, Fíl? Have you already fed her? I can take her with this lot.”

“She’s had hers, but she thanks you for asking. Go see to yours. Once Ilka comes back, I’m for my cot.”

“Do you need to see Khel about your shoulder?”

“I should,” Fíli agreed. “Maybe I should scrub first, too.”

“I want to before I find my cot,” I encouraged. “I’ll get a pony to take us to the river, then we’ll see Khel, and then we’ll sleep.”

“All right,” Fíli agreed, so I trotted off with the dogs to feed them. No one was at the dogs’ place this morn, another sign of Kahgli’s upset. I stoked the wash pot fire, then sliced enough meat to feed five dogs with reasonable thoroughness, though the young ones were still prone to jumping and snapping at the bits. Mhornar and Alabrin helped me keep order. Someone would have to replenish the dwindling supply of meat very soon; I wished I’d thought to ply my bow on the way home this morn, but there was nothing for it now. Once all the dogs were well fed, I rounded up our wash things, a fresh pony, and Fíli, and headed for the river. A few folk had preceded us, and our dogs plus the bairns trailed around us. With so many watchful eyes, we got to wash the dogs and ourselves without having to keep too close an eye out for wolves. Fíli’s shoulder wound hampered him enough that I helped him scrub and braid his hair, but eventually we came back to the tents feeling much refreshed.

Most of the folk left among the tents were still gathered for discussion out on the grass, including Khel, so Ilka tended Fíli’s shoulder for him, and then sent us off to the family tent to sleep. I was tired enough to go without a murmur. Fíli and I settled under our fly screen with little conversation, and our dogs seemed just as eager for rest. I stripped off most of my clothes, lay down on my cot, and shut my eyes.

Even wondering about the discussion on the grass couldn’t keep me awake, and I was asleep before I’d taken two breaths.

 

* * *

 

Perhaps three hours before dusk, Kíli and I woke at the same time, and for the same reason – the caravan had returned! Everyone was astir, and the air was full of voices – folk called back and forth, ponies neighed, and dogs barked. I helped Rinnala to her feet, then ran out of the tent before Kíli – he still had boots to pull on – with our three dogs, all of which were just as interested in the racket as I was. My first instinct was to join the unpacking, but with only one arm and no boots, I’d be more hindrance than help there. It wasn’t in me to stand by while everyone worked, so when Kíli waded into the unpacking for us, Rinnala, Alabrin, Mhornar, and I picked our way to the kitchen fires; maybe I could stir a pot in place of a more able-bodied Dwarf. Ilka gladly accepted my help, but not to stir a pot. Instead, she sat me down nearby with the four smallest bairns. I grinned – was I to see to them, or them to me? Maybe the latter, as the three dogs settled nearby exchanging distinctly amused expressions, and one of the dams trotted off as soon as I sat down. I’d never been among so many bairns at once before, but they were a lot like puppies, if squirmier; even their gleeful squeaks of greeting were very puppyish. In seconds, they eagerly overran me as if I were their newest climbing toy. I distracted them from my mustaches by marching their cloth dolls around for them to grab, which they liked. None of them talked in words or walked yet, but they babbled when I squeaked back at them, and none of them were inclined to crawl away to get underfoot of the kitchen help. They were so funny, and after enduring so much evil, their giggling was balm.

In between squeaks and giggles, I kept an eye on the unpacking. Mostly the youngest Kahgli folk bustled about with bags and sacks, and tended the ponies; the most senior folk, including Ilka, Vikken, Jiri, and Izril, stood with Derfrulia to the side, out of earshot. Merruli was there, too, still dusty from traveling...

Did Ferrin and Mulgrum stand among the throng as well?

Derfrulia must’ve sent out riders to the other camps to call her eldest sons back here, which shouldn’t have surprised me. Hadn’t Grun fractured Kahgli so badly that Derfrulia would want the clan’s senior members to know?

A prickle crawled up my back, and it wasn’t any of the bairns who caused it as they climbed over me. Derfrulia would do more than tell her sons what had happened – she’d reveal her judgment, too. Steppe clans didn’t have prisons or mines to hold their vipers; their ways could be much harsher, and I had no doubt that the judgment awaiting Grun and thirteen Kahgli Dwarves would be the harshest.

Even the bairns’ funny bumbling could distract me from that. Grun deserved all that Kahgli would levy on him... but I wasn’t sure I wanted to see it levied.

Faster than I expected, the unpacking was done. Supplies and pack frames went into tents for stowing; pack ponies got their rubdowns and wandered off to crop the grass. Kíli trotted up, grinning when he spotted my tiny companions. He plopped down next to me, already squeaking a greeting to the bairns.

“Ilka found you a pair of boots.” He plunked down a pair beside me. Then he dug a pair of my socks out of his trouser pocket, and plunked them down beside the boots. “They’ll hold you until someone makes you a new pair, but that’s in the works, she said.”

I thanked him profusely, deposited the most persistent bairn in Kíli’s lap, and hurried to pull on my socks and boots. The boots were a little large, but better that than too small. “Yah, so much better! Where’d she find them? I’d like to thank whoever was so generous.”

Kíli cuddled the bairn in his lap and didn’t look at me. “Um, you can’t. They’re Hassen’s boots.”

I winced. “Oh.”

“It was kindly meant,” Kíli hastened to say. “That’s the way when folk die on the grass, Ilka said, to distribute their things. You had the need, so...”

“It _was_ kindly meant,” I agreed firmly. “Don’t worry, Kíl. I don’t hold with ghosts or such, and this isn’t a bad omen. I just... regret the circumstances.”

“So do I.” Kíli rolled one of the soft cloth balls to the smallest bairn. “It’s...”

His shook his head when he couldn’t find words to continue.

“Any word on the wind about that?”

Kíli looked up to see my nod towards Derfrulia and her counselors. “Just that Ferrin and Mulgrum rode through the night to be here this morn. Once Derfrulia tells them what happened, she’ll pass judgment.”

“I don’t think it’ll be pleasant,” I ventured.

Kíli’s face was grim. “It won’t be. I got an earful of what it might be while I helped unpack. Banishment would be the kindest, but Grun won’t get that. What he’s likely to get will be...”

“I thought the same thing,” I said before Kíli decided to elaborate. “The bairns, yah? Don’t say it around them.”

“I don’t want to say it around _us_ ,” Kíli confessed. “Savage punishment for savage crimes.”

I grimaced. “Any word as to when Derfrulia will pass her judgment?”

Kíli shook his head. “I’d think it’d take hours to tell Ferrin and Mulgrum everything. Wouldn’t they want to talk to Yanna and Ankulaz and the others?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Derfrulia tells them her version, then her decision, and that’s that.”

Kíli straightened, and he paused just as he was about to roll the cloth ball again. “Maybe something’s about to happen? Everyone’s walking back to the tents.”

Kíli was right. Derfrulia and her counselors gathered by the clan mast with its bright banners wafting on the constant wind. No one had to make any sort of announcement; folk had been watching their leaders as closely as Kíli and I had, and when they gathered by the mast, everyone but the wounded, the accused and the accused’s guards came to hear what would be said. A pair of the dams came to gather up their bairns, so Kíli helped me cradle the littlest one in my good arm, and then he took up the last so we could join the rest.

“I have decided,” Derfrulia began. “Bring the twelve, who heeded Grun and attacked Fíli.”

As three Dwarves went to do Derfrulia’s bidding, folk around Kíli and me eased aside and urged us to the front of the gathering. I supposed we didn’t look all that prepossessing with bairns in our arms, but our dogs were beside us, and given how devoted all Dwarvish folk were to our youngest jewels, I hoped that resonated with Kahgli. If they remembered that my brother and I weren’t much older than the bairns we carried... eh, I couldn’t help that.

Kíli’s bairn squeaked as if she agreed that we were in good company, and Kíli jostled her gently as he whispered shushing noises in her ear. Valar, we really weren’t much better than bairns! But the murmur of amusement that surrounded us was kind, so I let it go and gave my attention to Derfrulia.

The twelve Dwarves appeared. Their hands had been bound behind them, and a long rope strung neck to neck kept them in line as a pair of guards pushed them to their knees before Derfrulia. The horse maid looked from one to the other, but not with the stern, angry look I expected, but with disappointment. Few of the twelve Dwarves met her eyes for long, nor did they look at the folk around them. They hadn’t been beaten or misused in any way, but I imagined they’d heard plenty of harsh words about their actions. One of the youngest ones cringed, as if he expected Derfrulia to pronounce a horrible sentence on him.

“All of you brought shame on our clan, but even worse is the shame you brought on yourselves. It hasn’t escaped me, or anyone with sense, that you lot gave the most credence to the worst of Grun’s rumors, even when smarter folk told you otherwise. Playful gossip is one thing, but malicious rumor-mongering is inexcusable. Nearly killing Fíli is a thousand times worse, so much worse that I can’t find words to curse it. Did you not recall that he and his brother wear Kahgli’s beads as younger sons, which you were to have honored as if they were brothers to Yanna, to Barkhuzi? Did you not recall that they’re of the king’s clan, which you also were to have honored? You had every opportunity to come to your senses, especially when so many of our folk rejected Grun’s evil, but you did not. So all of you will lose your hair, so that it will be a good, long time before you and anyone who sees you forget your crime.”

That set up a stir – lamentation from the twelve Dwarves, but grim approval from everyone else. I cut my eyes at Kíli, who’d wrongly endured such a loss, but he nodded wholehearted approval. I agreed with him – let those who’d tried to take my life bear the Dwarvish stigma of convicted thief and criminal.

“That is not all,” Derfrulia raised her hands to quiet the throng. “All of you would have forfeited your lives if you’d caused Fíli’s death. Thanks to Kíli’s nimble actions, you didn’t succeed. But you owe Clan Durin reparations for your actions. All of you who are contract hunters and herders will forfeit a third of your year’s wages to Clan Durin. The two of you who are Kahgli by blood will provide the equivalent in goods, be they furs, weapons, ponies, or such things.”

That widened my eyes, and Kíli looked no less startled. Kíli was quicker to add the price of that up in his head than I was, but I didn’t need to see his shocked expression to know that it was a substantial amount. We’d be able to provide Maamr some of the things that she’d done without, and maybe Uncle wouldn’t have to work so far away from Thorin’s Halls for some of the next year.

Around us, the clan nodded and murmured approval of this part of Derfrulia’s judgment, but Derfrulia wasn’t yet done.

“There is one more thing,” she said, holding up her hands again. “If any of the twelve of you chooses, I will release you from your contracts once you have paid your reparations, and you will be free to find work away from Kahgli as you see fit. I suggest that you reflect on your loss of honor and wages, and work hard to erase their taint.

“You are also free to stay with Kahgli. But if you choose to stay, know this – even after you pay your reparations, I will not tolerate another trespass from any of you, regardless of clan or contract. If I must pass judgment on any of you again, no matter how many years pass, then I will brand you as renegade, and cast you out without debate.”

Derfrulia motioned to her sons. Ferrin, the eldest, bore a razor. Mulgrum and Merruli held each of twelve Dwarves still while Ferrin relieved them of every hair on their head, from crown to neck. Ferrin didn’t draw a drop of blood, but neither did he use any oil or water to ease the process, so it must’ve been painful to those he shaved so closely. He was thorough – whether mustache, beard, or braid, all fell away from the twelve Dwarves. Derfrulia herself gathered all of the shaved tufts and cast them into the nearest fire, where they burned away in a heartbeat. Even the acrid stink of singed hair didn’t linger on the constant wind, and twelve sadly diminished lads were left to grovel on their knees.

“It is done,” Derfrulia held up her hands, then spread them wide, as if she cast something away on the wind. “Untie them.”

Derfrulia’s sons removed the ropes from the twelve Dwarves, and they were allowed to rise and retreat to the side, away from most folk, but still part of the gathering. When all was still, Derfrulia raised her hands again.

“I have decided,” she began anew. “Bring Cyth, who gave heed to Grun, and incited the attack on Fíli.”

When Ferrin and Mulgrum broke away from the circle, I flitted an apprehensive look at Kíli. My brother was no less uneasy. It seemed unlikely that Derfrulia would ask me what I thought would be an apt punishment for Cyth, so that was one worry I could let go. But despite what had happened, I was worried about Cyth. She’d been so broken when Kíli and I had stopped her last journey across the grass, and I didn’t know what I’d see when her grandsons brought her for judgment.

“Oh, Mahal,” Kíli whispered, as Ferrin and Mulgrum returned with Cyth between them. It was a terrible sight, for the dam was as grey as ash. She seemed no more substantial than a wisp of smoke or a beam of starlight, and her steps faltered between her two escorts. If her grandsons hadn’t kept hold of her arms, she might’ve drifted off on the breeze. But they held her steady, and folded her carefully down in front of Derfrulia. Everyone was dead silent, not even breathing. Derfrulia remained impassive, but perhaps she was as struck at her dam’s appearance as we were, because she didn’t speak right away. When she did, her voice was soft.

“Fíli chose to hold no insult against Cyth, and instead answered madness and cruelty with compassion and kindness. This is a great gift he gives to Cyth as well as Kahgli, and I thank him for his generosity.”

Derfrulia offered me a bow, which I returned as best I could while holding the bairn. Then she gestured at Cyth, drawing everyone’s eyes to her.

“It is clear that no punishment I levy would be more severe than the one that Cyth tried to shoulder last night. So I will not try to find one. Kíli gave us another great gift when he said that more anger, death, and desolation would only worsen the legacy of the hard blows Kahgli has borne, and that life is a better answer. I thank him for his wisdom.”

Kíli returned Derfrulia’s bow silently, but his eyes shone with gratitude at the horse maid’s praise. How proud I was of my little brother! I almost wished I could tell Uncle Thorin how wily Kíli was, but better to hold silence and save our hides. I smothered a smirk. Valar, despite all that’d happened, despite all we'd learned and grown, part of us was still the mischievous brothers we’d been back in Thorin’s Halls.

“I do, however, have judgment to make," Derfrulia continued. "I put an onus on Cyth. Her spirit needs time to heal, and time to understand and value the great gifts that Clan Durin has bestowed upon her. She has asked to cede her place as keeper of the hearth in the family tent to Ilka, and Ilka has agreed. But it is not wise to have nothing to fill the time, to have nothing to distract from past loss and mistakes. Healing cannot happen when one has no purpose. This winter, Fíli and Kíli will feel the sharp bite of wind and snow with us for the first time, and we must see them properly prepared. So I charge Cyth to turn her hands to all that they will need, counsel as well as goods.”

As another murmur of consideration went up, I recalled Kíli’s description of all the beautiful things that graced Cyth’s private space in the family tent, from decorated draperies to well-sewn blankets and pillows. As even Cyth’s daily working clothing was expertly embroidered and sewn, she was a talented craftswoman who enjoyed making beautiful things. So Derfrulia sought to give Cyth something to do that the old dam enjoyed, in the hopes that as she worked she’d ease her despair... just as Kíli had eased his when I'd cajoled him back to his arrow making.

I offered Derfrulia a bow. It would be wonderful if Kíli and I ended up with a few much-appreciated blankets, but we’d not take them as our due. The best thanks we could offer would be to help coax Cyth back to herself along the way, and we’d see it done.

My brother had followed my bow with his, and the swirl of low conversation seemed as pleased with Derfrulia’s judgment as we were, which Derfrulia acknowledged with a nod.

“It is done,” Again the horse maid held up her hands, then spread them wide. She beckoned Ferrin and Mulgrum forward, who stooped beside their grandmother. It wasn’t clear if Cyth was aware enough to understand her daughter’s judgment, but Ferrin and Mulgrum whispered to her as they helped her to her feet. She went with them in silence, looking just as ashen as she had when she’d been escorted before Derfrulia, but maybe there was a little more strength in her steps as she retreated.

“I have passed judgment on those who wronged Fíli and Kíli,” Derfrulia said. “Now I will pass judgment on the one who has wronged all of us, as well all of his own clan.”

Again the horse maid held up her hands, and said the words that all of us had waited to hear, whether eagerly or with dread.

“I have decided. Bring Grun, whose list of crimes is long.

“He murdered Helglor, heir of Kahgli, twenty-five years ago.

"He attacked and tried to murder Mulgrum, twenty-five years ago.

“He murdered Kazunki of Urghul.

“He murdered Hassen of Kahgli.

“He incited the attempted murder of Fíli, heir of Durin.

“He attacked and tried to murder Ankulaz, heir of Urghul.

“He attacked and tried to murder and rape Yanna, heir of Kahgli.

“He attacked and tried to murder Kheluz and Numolkhuzi of Kahgli.

“He murdered Kheluz’s herding dog Braungaraz, and Hassen’s wolfhound Tangitt.

“He attacked and tried to murder the wolfhounds Rinnala, Azrilmaag, Doksturm, Grimmdrengi, Makkwyr, Rukhsit, Vazraeven, Shathtosti, Ariberch, and Doktanz.

“He coerced Klyn of Kahgli to plant a forbidden gaming knife in Fíli's pack, in the hopes that I would banish Fíli from the grass.

“He sowed discontent among all the folk of Kahgli.

“Bring him.”

Only the wind whispered as Grun was carried forward, and deposited at Derfrulia’s feet.


	56. Chapter 56

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derfrulia renders her judgment against Grun.

I tensed when Grun’s guards carted him like so much baggage before Derfrulia. As Derfrulia had recited the long list of Grun’s crimes, the mood had darkened considerably, and while no one spoke when Grun was set before Derfrulia, the wind seemed sharper. The mayhem of twelve Dwarves and the madness of one aged dam paled in comparison with the litany of Grun’s murder and maiming. Just as daunting was the litany I’d heard while I’d helped unpack the caravan, which had detailed all of the excruciating torments that Derfrulia might inflict on the Urghul second. Everything from amputation of various bits to flogging was bad enough, but then there was the staking out on the grass for the wolves to savage, branding, slow drowning, and on and on. The most grotesque ones had left me so queasy that I was happy to join Fíli as he tended the bairns.

Would I have to watch Ferrin and Mulgrum inflict whatever Derfrulia decided? Probably, to witness on behalf of Clan Durin. If it were too awful, I’d just unfocus my eyes, and spare myself the worst of it...

“Bring the wounded, so that they can witness judgment against the one who harmed them,” Derfrulia said.

Several Dwarves trotted off, returning with Ankulaz, Kheluz, Yanna, and Numolkhuzi. The first two were on stretchers, but happily the latter two were on their feet, if leaning on the shoulders of their attendants. Folk arranged pack frames and other bits to let the wounded rest at their ease while they watched the proceedings. When the four were comfortably settled, Derfrulia turned her gaze back on the Urghul second.

“There is no point to speak to you as I did to those you misled,” Derfrulia said, looking on Grun in grim anger. “You haven’t listened to sense for twenty-five years, and you won’t listen to it now. Nor is there point for those you hurt to hear more about what a wasted life yours has been. It is time for us to put the hurt done to us in the past, Urghul as well as Kahgli.

“Kahgli extends all courtesy and consideration to the heir of Urghul while he recovers from his wounds. We will see Ankulaz healed as one of ours, and he is welcome to stay with us for as long as he desires. He and I will speak of how we can lessen the discord you sowed between our clans. When Ankulaz is well, he and I will travel together to speak with Tobazel, so that Urghul will know the tale of your crimes. We will undo all that you have schemed to ruin.”

Derfrulia turned to bow to Ankulaz, who lifted a hand to show his appreciation and agreement.

“Do you think Tobazel will believe anything you tell him?” Grun spat. The accused was not to speak when judgment was pronounced, but Grun showed the same contempt for Kahgli’s ritual that he had for everything but himself. “I’ve had near thirty-five years to poison his ears, and you’ll get nothing from him but knives! Go on, haul my flayed carcass before him, and tell him that your punishment was justified! He’ll pay you full measure in spite!”

Derfrulia ignored Grun’s outburst as if he’d never spoken – what an emphatic statement that was! How much better off would Kahgli folk have been if all of us had ignored his poison as Derfrulia did now? Even Ankulaz refused to cast so much as a glance in Grun’s direction, but gave a firm nod to reinforce the agreement he and Derfrulia had forged, a gesture that the horse maid returned. Her demeanor was fierce and implacable as she raised her hands again, and I cuddled my bairn in nervous anticipation.

“Here is the first part of my judgment. Grun will lose his hair, so that all will see evidence of his crimes.”

Once again, she motioned to her sons, and Merruli and Mulgrum held Grun tightly for Ferrin to shave him clean from pate to neck. The imprecations that Grun spat at the three Dwarves were so awful that Merruli stuffed a wad of leather into his mouth to silence him. His struggles were so feral that the two guards had to come forward to help hold him so that Ferrin drew no blood. It was a shameful display, but as I hadn’t expected Grun to honor any part of Derfrulia’s judgment, it wasn’t a surprising one. Again, Derfrulia collected the shorn bits and cast them into the fire. When the ashes and smoke had blown away, the horse maid raised her hands again.

“Here is the second part of my judgment. It is not enough that Grun lose only his hair for what he has done. His greatest weapon has never been his beard and braids, or even his knives and arrows. It’s been his tongue. That is what allowed him to seed so much discord, so many lies, so many intimidations and slights and taunts. Truly, he has the tongue of a viper. It is fitting that he be marked as the serpent he is, to warn all he will ever speak to again of his treachery. All serpents bear a forked tongue, and from now on, so will he.”

By the time I understood what Derfrulia’s sons and Grun’s guards were about to do, they had stepped forward again. Grun set up a horrific howl as the guards wrestled him to the ground and pinned him there. The Urghul second clamped his jaws shut, but Merruli was not deterred – he merely pinched Grun’s nose closed. As soon as Grun opened his mouth to gasp for breath, Mulgrum grabbed Grun’s tongue with tongs, and stretched it out of his mouth. Before I recoiled or looked away, Ferrin sliced a good inch of Grun’s tongue all the way through down the middle, giving him the forked serpent’s tongue he deserved.

As soon as the cut was made, the five Dwarves left Grun to scream against his bonds. His mouth filled with blood from the wound, which turned his howls into gasps and gurgles, but Derfrulia was unmoved, and she didn’t gesture either Khel or Maaggulmuli to stanch the flow. Instead, she raised her hands once again.

“Here is the third part of my judgment. When Ankulaz and I travel to speak with Tobazel, Grun will come with us. Grun struck many blows against Urghul before he plagued Kahgli, so it is proper that Urghul has its chance to pronounce judgment on him. Perhaps Urghul’s judgment will be full of knives and spite, but it will be levied on the one who earned it, not Kahgli.”

That met with a strong rumble of approval, mine with it. How canny was Derfrulia! Of course she’d deliver Grun with a full accounting of all of Grun’s crimes against Urghul as well as Kahgli. Even the aggressive Tobazel would be so abashed that he’d never dare to sue Kahgli for alliance again, which Kahgli would think a fine gift, if a dearly earned one.

“Here is the fourth and last part of my judgment,” Derfrulia continued. “Kahgli will provide Grun with food, shelter, and whatever care he needs until he returns to Urghul, but that is all. No one will approach him. No one will look at him. No one will touch him. No one will speak to him. No one will heed him. He will remain apart, and shunned.”

Derfrulia’s stark words raised one more murmur, this one subdued and somber. Hadn’t Barkhuzi mentioned that he’d never seen Derfrulia order anyone to be shunned? No wonder the reaction was so subdued. When silence fell yet again, Derfrulia raised her hands and spread them wide for the last time.

“It is done.”

Everyone was still for a moment, then by ones and twos, Dwarves put their palms together in front of their chests, offered Derfrulia a bow, and then turned back to their tasks. It was hard for Fíli and me to offer the same salute with our arms so full of squirmy bairns, but we bowed as best we could, then drifted away with everyone else. It seemed best to take the bairns back to their toys, and reward them for their patience, so before long, we were marching their cloth dolls back and forth, and rolling their soft balls for them to grab.

No matter what Derfrulia had said about shunning Grun, I couldn’t keep from wondering what would happen to him. What was Derfrulia’s plan to keep him safe against the predations of the grass, yet keep him apart from the rest of Kahgli at the same time? I cast a look back at the Urghul second in time to see Ferrin and Mulgrum haul him up and carry him a little distance out on the grass. Merruli and the two burly Dwarves who’d served as guards followed behind with their arms full of things, perhaps canvas and tent stakes. One of the guards bore a long staff, too; it was much too straight for it to be natural wood, so it was likely forged metal. The two guards proceeded to hammer the long staff into the ground until only a foot or so of it remained above ground – oh and oh, it was a tether stake, for a ring formed the end of it. Once Ferrin threaded both of the chains around Grun’s neck through the loop, Mulgrum and Merruli forced open the last link in each chain, threaded the links through others in the chain, then bent the open links closed again. It took all the strength of both Dwarves and their iron tools to set the links, so Grun would have no chance to reopen the links or pull up the stake on his own. Then the Dwarves set up a small tent so that Grun would have shelter against heat, flies, wind, and rain. Someone would likely venture out twice a day with food and water, too.

It was a hard, bare existence Grun faced until Derfrulia took him back to Urghul. But it was far better than what Master Dwalin would have granted him. It might be far better than what he’d ultimately receive from Clan Urghul.

In any case, I felt no pity for him.

 

* * *

 

Derfrulia wasted no time in getting Kahgli back to work. So much had been neglected, from the salve pots to the dogs’ meat to the kitchen stores to the horses, ponies, and goats, so there was lots of work for everyone. Kíli and I didn’t play nursemaids for long; despite the falling sun, he went out with the hunters to replenish the meat, and I watched over the older bairns as they refilled water skins and collected antelope chips for the fire. Once the sun fell, I tended the beacon fire as most of the clan scattered over the grass to see to the stock. The hunters returned with enough meat to see us through breakfast, then most of them returned to the grass to watch the herd, Kíli among them.

Come morn, I went out with the folk who harvested the goatsweed leaves for the salve, because that was something I could do one-handed. As it was my right shoulder that had taken the arrow, it would be some time before I could draw a bow again. Thanks to Master Dwalin, my left hand held a blade as well as my right, so after breakfast I sank onto my cot pleased that I wouldn’t be completely helpless while my shoulder healed.

One-handed or not, I found much to keep me busy over the next several days. Except for the dusty lump that was Grun tethered beyond the tents, life returned to its normal cycle. Blessedly, the flies completed their bloody orgy in another ten days, and while the grass was still blistering hot during the day, we enjoyed the night’s coolness again without having to smother ourselves in heavy clothes and oily goatsweed salve. Bit by bit, my shoulder healed, and I borrowed a lighter bow so that I could rejoin the hunters. It was good to feel useful again.

Kíli was just as busy as I was. Of course the lads had him flying over the grass on Lathga and the other tall horses as often as our duties allowed it. I was elated when my shoulder healed enough to rejoin him, Barkhuzi, Klyn, and a few others. We’d field at least a full hand of riders for the races come the fall festival, and were hopeful of our chances of winning. We even managed to convince Kulomar that he’d go faster if he kept his hooves on the ground, which was no easy thing. Still, all of us reveled in the trying.

Kíli and I spent a lot of time with Cyth, too. After that horrific day in the snow back in Thorin’s Halls, I’d learned not to be overly solicitous of Kíli, no matter how diminished he looked, not matter how protective I felt inside – that’d made him feel worse, as if I thought he were as fragile as an Elf’s flimsy wineglass. Acting more normally had reassured him, and that’s how we strove to act when we sat with Cyth for our lessons in sewing or tanning or embroidery. Kíli, bless him, was gentle and soft-spoken with her, but he also laughed and teased with a light heart as he told her stories of all that happened outside the family tent. Bit by bit, Cyth grew interested in the world again, and eased out of her despair to venture beyond the tent once more. I was heartened to see her resume some of her old duties, especially tending the herbals with Maaggulmuli and Khel.

Three weeks passed before Cyth finally referred to my terrible night on the grass. Kíli and I sat with her at the hearth of the family tent, well shaded against the noon heat. The constant wind offered a welcome breeze under the tent skirts, and it was a rare moment of ease during such a busy season. I had my pack in my lap; Cyth had traced an outline of Rinnala standing above a sword on the canvas for me, and I labored to stitch each line with colored thread. Likewise, Kíli sewed an arrow and a pair of dogs’ heads on his pack. Cyth had the hanks of colored threads arrayed across her lap, debating which hues would wear best. But at length, she fell silent, and stroked a finger over the hanks restlessly. Kíli caught her distraction first, and subtly nudged my knee with a toe to alert me. I flicked him a glance, then Cyth, and waited to see what the old dam would say.

“You offer me too much regard after I did such a mad thing,” she said at last.

“No, we don’t,” I shrugged.

“Why not?”

I glanced at Kíli, who’d gone thoughtful. When I didn’t reply, he offered, “Because you felt the same things I did when I tried to end my life. Shame and black despair... being alone in the entire world. Fíli wouldn’t let those claim me, just as we won’t let them claim you.”

“This isn’t the same, Kíli. You did nothing wrong. I did.”

“I thought I did,” Kíli said, surprising me. “I thought it was my fault that I was too tall, too pale, too different. That I was a burden on my family, an embarrassment, something to be ashamed of. No matter how hard I tried, I was a failure, a weakling, a freak animal that should be put down.”

Cyth’s eyes snapped to Kíli’s. His tone had been matter-of-fact and even; the starkness came from his words, not from how he said them, but regardless of the cause, they garnered him shock from Cyth, and a wince from me.

“How could you tell yourself that? That you were an animal fit to be killed?”

“Oh, a few folk told him that to his face more than once,” I said, trying to be as matter-of-fact as my brother. “Shows what they know, which is nothing.”

“Of course it is,” Cyth avowed, showing more spirit than she had since the nightmare. “You’re a skilled archer, a hard worker, and a good soul, Kíli. Let no one tell you otherwise.”

“I know that now, thanks to my doh kro brother,” Kíli gave me a mischievous smile. “He might be a doh kro, but better I listen to him than fools, yah?”

“You’re a lot smarter than my doh kro brother, Cyth, which is why you’ll listen to me without nearly so much arguing as Kili,” I bumped Cyth with my shoulder. “You’re a skilled crafter, a hard worker, and a good soul, too.”

“Course you are,” Kíli said stoutly, bumping Cyth on the other side with his shoulder. “You were wise about so many things before that night on the grass, weren’t you? And now you’re wiser about a few more. Live and learn, yah?”

The old dam didn’t look at either of us, but arms slipped around our waists to hug us close. “Yah, live and learn.”

I would’ve liked to tap my forearm against Kíli’s in recognition of our triumph, because this was a hard-won battle equal to many we’d celebrated. But it was a quieter one, and so we made do by trading grins over Cyth’s head.

When I met Kíli’s eyes, I had another celebration to enjoy. The light in his eyes was as bright as the summer sun at noon, full of life and laughter.

He was whole again, too.

 

* * *

 

Valar, how good it was to see Cyth ease at last! Each time I’d look at the pair of dogs I’d taken such pains to stitch on my pack, I’d remember this moment when I was sure that Cyth had found her way back. Grun’s malevolence had missed its mark, and would not claim another life on top of all the rest he’d stolen.

Happily, Cyth wasn’t the only one to find peace since Fíli’s horrible ordeal. Klyn had given up his reclusive ways, and he and Barkhuzi were in harmony again. They laughed and teased each other without reserve once more, and I was glad to be beside both my friends as they taught Fíli and me more riding skills, and we taught them more tricks with blades and bows. We were often back and forth to each other’s hearths, which meant both rang with laughter and jokes as often as our duties allowed.

Cyth, Klyn, and Barkhuzi weren’t our only companions. Unsurprisingly, Fíli ventured close to Yanna again, and if he was still teased about it, he was spared the apprehension. He and the Kahgli heir taken similar wounds, if on opposite arms, so they made a joke out of it, claiming that together they could manage chores that neither of them could do alone. I stayed out of it. Both Fíli and Yanna understood their duties as the heirs of their clan, which meant that whatever grew between them would likely make no difference as they aged into their majorities. In my opinion, which no one cared to ask about, friendship between clans was always welcome. I still wasn’t interested in maids, but watching Yanna changed my opinion of them, or at least those like her. She was strong, confident, able, and straightforward, and a vast improvement over the simpering daisies who plagued Fíli back in Thorin’s Halls. If ever I did become interested in maids, Yanna’s example showed me what to look for in one.

While Fíli spent time with Yanna, I sought out Ankulaz. Grun’s arrow had punctured his lung, and no matter how quick Dwarves are to heal compared to frailer Men, it was weeks before he breathed easier and regained some strength. Time weighed heavily on his hands, so I made it my business to distract him. Sometimes we sat and talked as his breath allowed, and sometimes we just sat. I always brought Mhornar, Alabrin, and as many of the young wolfhounds as would attend. How good it was to see Ankulaz relax around them, and better when he began to ask me about them. I coaxed Klyn to come a time or two, because he knew so much about the dogs, and it was good for them to get to know each other, given that they were cousins of a sort. As Ankulaz’s strength increased, he walked between the tents, and spoke more and more with Dwarves of his age. If he was still quiet and consumed with protocol, he was friendlier, and folk made room for him around the fires as a matter of course.

“You’re right that he’s still consumed with protocol,” I told Fíli murmured one eve as we readied our things before we headed out on the grass. “He actually asked me what the proper form of address was for Mhornar, as he recognized that she was the senior bitch.”

Fíli’ smile was incredulous. “What did you tell him?”

I smothered a snicker. “Um, Mhornar?”

Fíli snorted. “Valar, Kíl.”

“That’s what I call her,” I protested, waving my hands. “Unless my beauty, my sweeting, my pretty queen, or my bonny lass count.”

“No, I’m not snorting because you call your dog by her name,” Fíli explained. “I’m snorting because I can’t think of anyone else who’d ask about the proper form of address for your wolfhound.”

I laughed as we shouldered our bows and quivers and let ourselves into the briar enclosure to choose our ponies. “Remember when Derfrulia called me out on the grass after I shot at Tobazel? When she told me that folk on the grass don’t argue points of protocol? Of fucking course they do! Even more than town folk do!”

Fíli grinned. “They argue about different things.”

I went to the side of my favorite Lissa, who greeted me with a happy snuffle. I scrubbed her nose in greeting. “Hmm. I take it back. They don’t exactly argue, do they?”

Fíli bridled his pony, heaved his saddle aback, and then bent to fasten the girth. “What do you mean?”

“Life’s not so insulated out here as it is in Thorin’s Halls, is it? Back there, folk have an easier time to run here and there, doing whatever they like, whenever they like. Out here, everything has to be... hmm, more coordinated, I suppose like an army.”

“So Kahgli doesn’t so much argue about things as they make sure everyone knows what to do,” Fíli summarized.

“Yah, exactly!” I exclaimed. “So I suppose Derfrulia was right, no one does argue the points of protocol out here. Everyone lives them.”

“Makes sense,” Fili nodded. “Come on, time to see to the ponies. Look, there’s Barkhuzi, coming to find out what’s taking us so long.”

Snickering, I led my pony towards the red-haired Dwarf at the gate. “Just arguing the points of protocol, that’s all.”

“You’re such a doh kro,” Fíli sighed, coming along behind me to greet Barkhuzi.

Our dogs had a quick romp with Neyshath while Fíli, Barkhuzi, and I turned our ponies towards the Lhûn. Our way took us past Grun’s meager tent. Two Dwarves stood by to deliver the Urghul second’s eve meal, then retreated without a word. Most folk had been glad to forget about him once Derfrulia had declared him shunned, but I hadn’t been one of them. I’d half expected him to figure out some way to take his life and thus avoid Urghul’s censure, but if he’d tried, he hadn’t succeeded. Ankulaz was mending fast, and hardly wheezed at all when we walked about the tents now. Sooner rather than later, he’d be fit to journey.

How long would it be before Derfrulia and Ankulaz made their trip onto Urghul lands? Would Fíli and I be asked to go? And what would happen when we stood before Tobazel?

Yah, I kept my eyes open for hungry wolves in the dark, but that didn’t keep me from wondering about the viper chained outside the Kahgli tents, and what awaited him at the hands of Clan Urghul.


	57. Chapter 57

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kahgli rushes to catch up on chores, and a caravan sets out to Kahgli's mountain village. Wool isn't the only cargo - Grun is also in tow.

Kahgli had a lot of catching up to do. The stir about Grun had put off so much work for more days than was conscionable, so now everyone faced twice the normal duties to get everything done. We had to hunt to provide for hungry Dwarves and dogs, we had ponies to tend, we had tents to mend and skins to prepare... so many things. Once the plague of blood flies finally calmed, we had even more to do, because it was time for the goats to contribute to Kahgli’s fortunes.

So far, neither Kíli nor I had had much to do with the clan’s goats. I’d all but forgotten them, given that they didn’t usually stray onto the flat land that the ponies and horses favored. They preferred the scrubby eastern slopes of the rolling land that surrounded the ponies’ preferred grazing lands, because that’s were their fodder was – the goatsweed. In most years, Kíli and I might’ve stayed with the ponies, but given the backlog of work, this year we’d go off with almost everyone else for a few days harvest the goats’ wool.

Like ponies and horses, goats shed their winter coats as the weather warmed. Everywhere one rode over the grass, tufts of one color or another drifted everywhere. Sometimes the clan’s bairns collected pony castoffs as they learned to stuff small pillows and such, but it had no value past that. The goats’ wool, however, was valuable. It had to be collected, then bundled off to the clan’s mountain village to be cleaned, sorted, carded, spun, and woven into blankets and clothing, all of which were in high demand.

One of the many things that Cyth taught us was that Kahgli’s goats supplied two kinds of wool. The great majority of it was long, coarse guard hairs suitable for tough, utilitarian things –blankets, pony pads, rugs, tent hangings, and outer winter clothing. The second kind was the highly prized insulating fleece that lurked under the guard hairs of each goat. Kahgli made the finest garments out of this fleece, all of them light, soft, and warm.

The key to a good wool harvest was timing. It was said that Kahgli’s goats started to grow their wool on the summer solstice, and ceased to grow it on the winter solstice. The wool held tight to the goat all through the winter, and then loosened in late spring. To harvest the cleanest, purest fleece free of the guard hairs, Kahgli combed it off the goat before the goat shed the guard hairs. Once the fleece was in hand, Kahgli sheared off the long guard hairs. An average goat might produce five pounds of guard hairs, but only a single pound or less of the insulating fleece.

Traditionally, the clan waited to harvest the wool until the blood flies passed, so that the goats were protected from the worst of the plague. Grun’s turmoil had played havoc with the timing this year, so the rush was on to gather the goats. Any further delay would see the wool blowing away on the wind; also, the coarser guard hairs would loosen and comb out with the fleece, which would reduce the quality of the fleece.

Gathering the goats was a huge effort, and to see it done quickly would take folk from all three of the side camps as well as from the main one to see it done. As Kíli and I were more useful on the grass with the ponies to watch for wolves, we weren’t among the goat collectors. We didn’t suffer from lack of excitement, though – the wolves were famished after the fly plague, and not discriminating about their quarry. We and the other hunters were hard pressed to keep the wolves’ eyes on antelope rather than ponies. All of us on this duty came back to the tents with stories of bold wolves, as well as several skins ready for tanning. No one could tell me that wolves weren’t canny creatures, though, because once they’d had a few days to slake their ravenous appetites, they became choosier about their prey. Many quickly learned that if they fell upon an antelope for their meat, not a Dwarf protested. I watched many a wolf hunt from the back of my pony, marveling at what stealthy, patient, and clever hunters they were. But let any wolf turn its eyes on a pony, horse, or goat, and an angry flight of dogs with implacable Dwarves close behind showed them their folly. Those that survived such encounters grew to prefer the prey that didn’t come with armed guards.

After several days of wolf patrol, Kíli and I were finally called to help with the combing and shearing. We rode straight east to the edge of the flat land to find so many milling, bleating animals massed together that the dust they stirred up was visible for miles. The greater part of Kahgli was among the goats; even Ankulaz was pressed into service despite his thready strength, and so was Cyth. They would work together to oversee collection of the wool as it came off the goats, which ought to prove interesting. They were stiff with each other, but both took pains to be courteous and considerate, so maybe their time together would mend a bit more of the damage Grun had done.

As for Kíli and me, we’d be among the combers and shearers, so our first task was to fetch a goat and secure it. This was not easy. Kahgli’s goats were used to fending for themselves with very little handling, so some of them didn’t take kindly to changes in their routine. Kíli and I were terrible at it! The goats knew with a single look that we were out of our depth, and took gross advantage to butt, bite, kick, and otherwise abuse us.

“Valar, I’ve had enough of you and your fucking horns and hooves!” Kíli swore at the recalcitrant goat dam that wanted no part of us urging her anywhere. He ducked her formidable horns, wound his arms around her body, and wrestled her towards the nearest combing stand. He stuck her head between the crossbars, holding her there until I could tie her horns in place. She answered that indignity with loud bleats and kicks, which made Kíli jump hastily out of range. “ _Shataz kurvanog vogal_!”

I laughed at my brother’s vehemence, and so did most of the Dwarves around us.

“Yah, that’s the way, Kíli!” someone yelled. “Give her what for!”

“I did!” Kíli took up his combing brush to shake it at the restrained goat. “Oh, be quiet, or I’ll have Alabrin nip your hooves!”

“What did you call her, Kíl?” Klyn asked. “Was it Black Speech?”

“A fucking little pest,” Kíli glowered, then grinned at our companions before he started to comb his side of the goat. “Yah, it was Black Speech. Orcish.”

“The Black Speech?” someone asked incredulously. “Mahal, is that what you and your brother have been speaking?”

“Yah, thank our armsmaster, Master Dwalin,” I snickered. I launched into our old tale about how proud the veteran warrior was of his extensive vocabulary of curses, and how he drilled that arcane knowledge into the thick heads of his charges. We passed on a few of Master Dwalin’s choicest epithets while we brushed dirt and grass off the goat’s coat, then began to comb out the loose fleece. By the time we finished, a lot of folk, lad and lass alike, were laughing about Orcish profanity. Such laughter made combing an angry goat pass more pleasantly, but it was still hot, sweaty work.

Once we’d separated fleece from goat, the older bairns stuffed it into canvas bags by color. Then we took up shears and trimmed all but an inch or two of the guard hairs off. It was tricky to do a good job of this, to cut close enough to take all the usable wool, but not cut the goat’s skin or leave it too bare to resist pests and sunburn. More folk came with bigger sacks to collect the guard hairs before the winds bore it away, and our irate maid looked half her original size.

Just before we turned each goat loose, Khel and Maaggulmuli circulated among us to check the goat’s hooves, and trim them when needed. As Kíli and I had trimmed many a pony hoof, once the healers saw that we were competent at it, we did that work for each goat we combed.

The worst part was to see to the goat sires. Thankfully, Kahgli’s few sires were so recalcitrant that only the most expert handlers saw to them, which spared Kíli and me. Of course, goat sires stank to the stars, so several of the stoutest Dwarves had taken them to the river a few days ago and made them at least stand in the water long enough to wash away the worst of the filth. They weren’t scrubbed, merely soaked, because scrubbing would’ve removed too much of the wool. It was still no festival to comb and shear them after they’d had a day or two to dry, but it was much improved. Their wool went into separate bags to keep it from soiling the rest.

With almost every able-bodied Dwarf working most of the day around, we still needed three days to comb and shear more than four hundred goats. We ended up with more than three hundred pounds of prime fleece, and about fifteen hundred pounds of guard hairs, all stuffed into fat, hundred-pound sacks. Everyone ached and moaned as we struggled to pile those sacks atop the pack ponies to bring them back to the main camp. In just a day or two, another caravan would take the wool to Kahgli’s mountain village, where folk would prepare the wool to be spun, woven, and sewn. The yarn and cloth produced from the special fleece would soon transform into Kahgli’s most sought-after goods that protected so well against the winter cold, but the guard hair blankets, rugs, and coats were popular because they wore so well. Some of those goods might even find their way down to Thorin’s Halls and farther south to keep town Dwarves snug.

Kahgli’s rush to prepare the caravan was concerned with more than the late collection of wool. The caravan’s usual path would take it close to Urghul lands, so once we delivered our cargo to the village, we’d detour north to deliver Grun back to his clan. Shunned and silenced the Urghul second might be, but he was still a blot on the grass, and we’d all breathe easier when he was gone. Ankulaz was still not at his full strength, but as the caravan traveled much slower than unaccompanied riders making full speed, he’d travel safely and in comfort. We’d also have a full complement of folk to tend the pack ponies, guard against wolves, and so forth, so if Tobazel were inclined to indulge in mischief, our numbers should give him pause.

It was no surprise when Derfrulia said she wanted Kíli and me to accompany the caravan. I had borne Grun’s malice, and despite my youth I represented Clan Durin, and that would carry weight in whatever Derfrulia said to Tobazel. The horse maid would have been within her rights to have Kíli remain behind, where his bow would do the most good for Kahgli’s stock. But my brother was my second, and given how hard he’d fought to save my life, Derfrulia chose to give him the chance to see the end of Grun’s saga. So I told Derfrulia that it would be our honor to tend the caravan, both to fulfill the duties we’d contracted to do, and to represent Clan Durin.

When I told Kíli this after we met after our night’s duty on the grass, his reaction was as much elation as it was apprehension.

“What, have you finally learned to think as much about statecraft as you do adventure?” I teased.

“Oh and oh, I can’t wait to see Kahgli’s village,” Kíli was quick to assure me as we doled out breakfast for Rinnala, Mhornar, and Alabrin. Happily, my queen had recovered from the worst of Grun’s attack, and the slashes that had marred her shoulders and neck were fading scars that gave her little trouble. “But...”

“But what?” I doled out another chunk to my hungry wolfhound, which took it daintily.

Kíli cast a quick look around the camp. Folk came and went, but no one was close to us. Even so, he bent down to whisper into my ear. “I’d hoped to have another day or two, that’s all.”

“A day or two for what?” I whispered back. “This isn’t a prank, is it?”

“No!” Kíli shot back, then his expression washed with the faintest tinge of guilt. “Eh, not exactly a prank. But something unexpected.”

“What?” I pressed.

“You won’t blab, will you? Promise you won’t blab.”

“Course not, doh kro. Unless you’re about to do something stupid.”

“I am not about to do something stupid, arsehole,” Kíli countered with an affronted snort. “I’m trying to do something good.”

“For once,” I teased, but relented when Kíli turned a reproachful look on me. “Of course you’re trying to do something good, brother. You saved my life, and after that, I can’t imagine you’d go back to pranking anyone like a bairn again.”

Kíli’s smile was gratified. “Course not. And I won’t. This is different.”

“So tell me.”

Kíli gave me a conspiratorial grin. “You know how Rukhsit likes her head scrubs so much, yah?”

“She’s a glutton,” I agreed.

“The worst. I tease her that she’d let Melkor scratch her head, and the silly maid just grins at me in total agreement.”

“So what about Rukhsit?”

“I’m trying to get her to take to Ankulaz. Imagine what both Urghul and Kahgli would say if I manage that?”

I did, and chuckled. “Valar, Kíl. That would be a stir.”

Kíli nodded vigorously. “I’d hoped for another day or two before the caravan left, to see if I could get them to bond, so she’d go with Ankulaz.”

“Since we’ll go with the caravan, you might have a few more days. If your bairns follow you.”

“Oh, they’ll follow me,” Kíli said confidently. “I’ll see to that. And Vikken won’t complain, either – he says that Mhornar and Alabrin are the best teachers the bairns could have.”

“So are you,” I replied. “That’s a grand plan, Kíl. Just grand.”

“It’s just wishful thinking if I can’t get it to stick,” Kíli shrugged. “I take her with me when I visit with Ankulaz, and have her come with us when Ankulaz and I walk about the camp. Yesterday, I made sure I walked with him when it was time to feed the bairns, and just plunked Rukhsit’s bowl in his hands so he’d feed her.”

“Did he do more than hold the bowl?” I asked skeptically, but Kíli’s nod was emphatic.

“He did. I showed him how to hold the meat on his palm, and Rukhsit was more than willing. So I’m hopeful.”

“Nobody’s complained?”

“Not so far. After all, you and I are contract hunters, aren’t we? No one complained about us bonding with our dogs. We’d have to leave our dogs behind when our contract is done, just as any contract hunter would.”

“True enough,” I said, and winced.

“What?”

“I don’t like to think about having to leave Rinnala behind next spring.”

“I won’t. Leave Alabrin and Mhornar, I mean. I’ll contract for another year, and another year after that, and another year after that. However many years I can stay here, I will.”

Except for the bullies who’d made life so miserable for my brother, I’d had no complaint about life in Thorin’s Halls. Even after what Grun had incited folk to do to me, how wonderful was it to see Kíli so happy here, and to have the love and affection of Middle Earth’s finest wolfhound queen bestowed upon me? I was no more interested to come off the grass than Kíli was.

“When Maamr and Uncle see us ride up with five Kahgli ponies in tow, and all of Urghul’s reparations besides, I don’t think they’ll complain about us wanting to sign another contract.”

“I won’t give them the chance to complain,” Kíli avowed. “I’ll contract with Derfrulia before I go back to Thorin’s Halls to visit. Uncle and Maamr may not like me doing that, but they won’t want me to break contract.”

“Derfrulia won’t complain, either, I’d say. We’ve both done more good than harm.”

“So you won’t forbid me from making next year’s contract with Derfrulia?” Kíli turned a gleeful smile on me. “You want to stay, too?”

Rinnala chose that moment to whuff at Kíli, as if to ask him if he’d lost his senses. My brother giggled, and I waved a hand at my queen.

“Do you even need to ask the question?”

“Good,” Kíli smiled. “Thank you, brother. All right, Mhornar, Alabrin. You’ve had your breakfast, haven’t you? Of course you have! Now it’s time for your hungry Dwarf to have his. Then we’ll look for Ankulaz to coax him out for his walk, and then we’ll feed the bairns, won’t we? Yah, that’s a fine plan!”

“I’ll come with you, Kíl,” I offered, and he gladly accepted.

Off we went to stuff our faces. Ankulaz joined us for porridge and tea, and once Kíli had slaked his hellacious appetite, we set out with the Urghul heir to slowly circumnavigate the camp. Ankulaz’s pace had steadily improved; he no longer wheezed, either, so he was solidly on the mend. He didn’t complain when Kíli steered us to the dogs’ area. Klyn was there, and waved a greeting as he stood amidst several of the unattached dogs that clamored for their breakfast, so of course Kíli and I waded in to help.

“Here!” Kíli thrust his bowl full of cut up meat into the Urghul heir’s hands. “You know yon saucy maid needs a good breakfast, yah? Come on, Rukhsit! Look who’s here to fetch your meat!”

At Kíli’s herald, Rukhsit trotted right up to Ankulaz, her mouth gaping in a wide grin. But the dog’s enthusiasm wasn’t what sent my eyebrows into my hair. It was Ankulaz actually holding the bowl that did it. And look – did the smallest, palest smile turn up the very corners of Ankulaz’s lips?

“Imp,” the Urghul Dwarf muttered, but he turned to Rukhsit readily enough.

“Yah, I am,” Kíli agreed, grinning without rancor. “And you’re the son of Urghul’s last wolfhound mistress. So this is in your blood. You can’t very well ignore that, can you?”

Ankulaz stared at Kíli with as much glare as surprise, but my brother blithely ignored both sentiments. Rukhsit paid Kíli no attention, either, but kept her hopeful gaze on Ankulaz and the bowl of meat he held. As Kíli seemed to concentrate on one of the other dogs, Rukhsit whuffed once at Ankulaz; the poor thing positively drooled as she eyed the bowl so close to her mouth. Ankulaz shook his head, but dutifully doled out the meat. The silly maid took her portions happily, with more or less decorum; with each bite, Ankulaz seemed to smile a bit more.

Kíli pretended not to notice, but if Ankulaz didn’t see my brother wink at me, that was all to the good.

 

* * *

 

_Maraz stirred the morn stew beside Derfrulia well enough, but his eyes weren’t on the pot or the fire underneath it. His eyes were on Fíli, Kíli, and Ankulaz, as well as the young dogs that danced around them, all eager for their meat. When Kíli shoved a bowl of meat into the Urghul heir’s hands, the old herder’s expression turned disapproving. When the Urghul heir actually took pains to feed the eager Rukhsit properly, Maraz rumbled annoyance, let the spoon drop in the pot, and gathered himself._

_“Leave him alone,” Derfrulia murmured. Her voice was soft, but the warning in her eyes was not._

_“That Urghul’s going to steal one of our dogs,” the old herder grumbled as he fished for the spoon. “Haven’t they caused enough trouble?”_

_“No one steals a wolfhound,” Derfrulia rebuked, telling herself that as much as Maraz. “If Rukhsit takes to Ankulaz, then she takes to him.”_

_“He’s not Kahgli.”_

_“Neither are Fíli and Kíli. Do you think they’ll steal our wolfhounds?”_

_“They’re different.”_

_Derfrulia snorted. “Maybe Ankulaz is different, too. And wouldn’t we all be better off if he were?”_

_The old retainer grumbled, but subsided. In truth, Derfrulia tasted the same bitter jealousy – wolfhounds were one of Kahgli’s strengths, and to cede one to an enemy stung like salt in the still-unhealed wounds inflicted at Helglor’s death..._

_Hadn’t she learned that she was not the only one who suffered from unhealed wounds?_

_She and Ankulaz had begun to talk, if warily, cautiously, and if the heir had guarded his words, she’d still seen some of what lay behind them. As much as Kahgli had suffered from the loss of its heir, Urghul had lost much, much more, and Ankulaz with them. He wasn’t Grun, or even his father. So... was Ankulaz an enemy?_

_Kíli’s love for his – his, not Kahgli’s – wolfhounds poured out of him as he saw to all of the dogs that flocked about him, dogs that wanted to bask in that love. Maybe he loved them so much because his own kind had treated him so badly, but that wasn’t what pulled the dogs to him – they were his because he asked only to revel in them, and nothing else. His love was patient and unconditional, just as it was for his brother._

_If Kili wanted to infuse some of that same unconditional regard into the Urghul heir, Derfrulia would let him try._

_A young wolfhound was a small price to pay to heal the wound that was Urghul._

 

* * *

 

We had two days to recover from the rigors of goat-combing before Kahgli formed its caravan. Many senior hunters were going, and all three of Derfrulia’s sons. This was not entirely about protecting a caravan of some two-dozen ponies loaded with sacks of wool, no matter how valuable it was. Once we delivered the wool to the village, we’d all turn north, and that’s when Kahgli wanted its senior members, so we’d turn a strong face towards Tobazel.

In addition to Derfrulia and her sons, several younger folk would attend to see to the ponies and watch over the wool. Fíli was thrilled that Yanna had recovered enough to go, and I was just as happy that Klyn and Barkhuzi would be along. All three had promised to show Fíli and me around the Kahgli village. It sounded a lot like what I was used to in Thorin’s Halls – small, snug cottages kept the folk well against the weather. But where Thorin’s Halls had several guildhalls, the armory, a smithy, and such things, Kahgli’s village had but two big halls in the middle of the cottages. That’s where just about everything happened. The smaller of the two halls was a big cooking area where folk could gather. The other housed everything to see to the wool, from washing tubs and spinning wheels to cutting and sewing tables and looms. To hear our friends tell it, the village sounded like a busy and friendly place. I hoped so; I didn’t want to face the same reception there as I’d found in Thorin’s Halls.

Of course, Grun would be part of the caravan, and so would his two burly guards. But the same prohibition against any sort of contact with him would be in effect. My first instinct was to worry about what would happen at night, but then Klyn told us that we’d be travelling mostly at night, and stopping during the hottest part of the day to rest. It would be much harder for Grun to sneak off or work mischief in daylight. At night, he’d be tied into his saddle, and not much threat to anyone.

We packed up enough food, water, and clothing to last us a week or ten days. Fíli sharpened our knives and blades, and I checked our bows, quivers, and arrows. Then late one afternoon, the caravan set out. We had some two-dozen ponies to carry the wool; all were packed lightly enough that if we ran into wolves or some other menace, they’d be nimble enough to run. We also had several ponies to carry canvas, which would protect us from the sun and heat when we rested during the day, as well as provisions and cooking things. A full complement of pony drovers came along, and another of hunters, and more than enough dogs, given that my entire flight of bairns capered beside us. Then we had Grun and his two guards.

By now, Fíli and I were used to hours in the saddle, so it was exciting to set out across the grass almost directly east. Kahgli’s village lay in the foothills of the Blue Mountains, in the shadow of the first peak that turned northwest. A slight gap in the mountains that led directly to the sea was just south of the village, which meant that folk could journey there during the fish runs to stock the larder. But that same gap let in a lot of winter weather, so hunkering down to the north gave the village more protection against the worst of the biggest winter blows. I was anxious to see all the sights that Klyn, Barkhuzi, and Yanna talked about, even if they weren't part of a big town – Kahgli’s village was about half the size of Thorin’s Halls. It was so small, in fact, that Kahgli had never bothered to call it anything other than Drukat Kurz De Marr, literally home in the mountains. The other clans called it merely Kahgli’s Village.

It was some sixty miles from Kahgli’s main camp west to the village, but the way was straight and clear for the most part, so with good weather we’d likely reach it in four days. After we set out, we kept the ponies to a steady, miles-eating trot. The Lhûn receded behind us, but the pale, pale smudges of shadow that were the Blue Mountains didn’t get noticeably clearer. We rode through the coolest part of the night, stopping once or twice to rest the ponies and ourselves. The hunters ranged some distance from the line of ponies, just so that we’d spot wolves trailing us in the dark. The pack ponies' caravan bells provided a constant tinkle and chime, so we always knew where they were, and didn't lose our way in the dark.

I paid the dark around me close attention, and kept an arrow nocked in my bow at all times. I kept an ear out for my dogs, which ranged farther afield than I did. But I also cast an admiring eye up to the skies now and again. Away from any source of light, the stars and the travelers blazed forth in full brilliance, and it was impossible not to marvel at them. Again I hoped that when folk gathered around the fire of a winter’s eve, I’d hear Merruli or Barkhuzi relate some of their stories about the shapes in the stars.

At dawn, a few hunters went out to fetch the day’s meat for Dwarves while the rest of us continued on. We traveled steadily until an hour or two after sunrise before Derfrulia called a halt. Up went a mast bearing a bright red pennant to guide the hunters home. Fíli and I helped to set up the two traveling tents that would shelter us during the heat of the day; as in the main camp, Grun’s solitary shelter went up at some distance from the rest. Other folk kindled a fire for the kitchen grille, and porridge went in the pot to plump. Still others saw to the pack ponies. By the time the hunters came back with fresh meat, the wool was piled into a mound of bags, the ponies were groomed and in hobbles to graze nearby, and the dogs were rested and ready for breakfast. To my surprise, Ankulaz joined those of us who cut up meat for the dogs, and wordlessly pulled out his boot knife to help. I didn’t have to shove a bowl for Rukhsit in his hands this morn, for he took it up himself, and Rukhsit clove right to his side as soon as he looked for her.

I didn’t smother my gleeful expression fast enough, and Ankulaz caught it. I refused to apologize for it, so merely nodded acknowledgement. Yah, he shook his head, and likely the word he muttered under his breath was imp. But his smile was the most open I’d seen yet from him, and he wasn’t so stiff with the silly dog that drooled on his hand.

Maybe this would turn out well, after all.

While we’d fed the dogs, the rest of the meat had gone on the grill to sizzle and pop. We had our fill of the crispy tidbits, as well as bowls of porridge and cups of tea. Then we set a guard, and the rest of us took shelter in the tent to rest until close to nightfall, when we’d eat our supper, reform the caravan, and continue on.

Such was the routine for the next three days. We had a few wolves to drive off – Fíli had a pair of pelts to take back to camp for tanning, and I had one. But for the most part, the trip was uneventful. Little by little, the Blue Mountains grew from shadows to tall, clear peaks that loomed before us. We were so far north of Thorin's Halls that snow still clung to the very tips of the tallest ones, above where the hardiest of dark green firs grew. Lower down, more oaks and maples and alders grew, clothing the sides of the steep peaks in a lighter mix of greens. The land’s undulations grew into larger swells, and those into foothills, and wildflowers mixed into the grass.

The land still looked unoccupied, with sight of neither Dwarf nor structure. But early one morn, just before we’d normally stop for the day, Barkhuzi pointed out the first sign of Dwarves’ presence.

“Look, Kíl!” the red-haired Dwarf pointed. “No camping on the grass for us this morn! We’ll reach the village in another couple of hours! See that? The great reddish mound? That’s a steppe yak!”

I gaped at the beast. It was enormous! A gigantic beast bigger than any pony, and greater around if not as tall as a horse, browsed on the grass and wildflowers. Its massive horns spanned as wide as a Man was tall, and its long, thick coat was a beautiful light reddish brown. Despite its size, it seemed gentle, because it looked up at us with only mild interest in its great golden eyes. A big metal ring hung from its nose, and it chewed thoughtfully as we went by.

“Are they as gentle as they look?” I asked.

“Mostly,” Barkhuzi nodded. “Make no mistake, they’re fierce against the wolves, and it’s not uncommon for them to gore the inexperienced ones, because they’re so strong, and they move a lot faster than you think. They’re easy to milk, too. Shearing’s easy. They make the best leather, tough and thick enough for saddles and pack belting. Some of the rasher lads have tried to race them at the fall festival, but they’re not so good at that. When they’re annoyed, they can dig in their hooves and buck you off swift as lightning. So I’d stick to riding horses and ponies.”

“Pack animals?” I asked. “Or plowing?”

Barkhuzi shook his head. “They’re slower than ponies, so not the best for pack animals. And they’re too big to yoke together for plowing, given their horns. But a single one will plow a decent row. It’s their hair, leather, and meat that we use. Clan Distin, the leather workers where I did my fostering, has them as their totem animal.”

Fíli came bounding up to us, a big grin on his face. “Oi, you two! Klyn says we’ll reach the village this morn!”

“Aye, I just told Kíli the same thing,” Barkhuzi laughed. “I knew as soon as I saw the first yak. They stay close to home!”

“Good thing,” Fíli grinned at me. “Imagine having to carry one of those to the shearing stand!”

We all shared a good laugh over that, which helped relieve the weariness of another long night’s travel. Klyn rode up to join us, and regaled us with the good breakfast he expected to find as soon as we reached the village. As I was still always hungry, my mouth watered at the thought of griddlecakes with butter and honey. I hadn’t had those since I’d left Maamr’s kitchen, and if I didn’t miss Thorin’s Halls, I did miss Maamr’s cooking. How would breakfast in Kahgli’s village kitchen compare?

In just a few hours, I’d find out.


	58. Chapter 58

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The caravan reaches Drukat Kurz De Marr, Kahgli's mountain village, where the Brothers Durin savor the sights.
> 
> After supper, Fíli has more to savor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> Drukat Kurz De Marr – home in the mountain (Kahgli's village name)  
> Drukat Skilami – home master

A couple of hours before noon, Barkhuzi leaned towards me and pointed – Kahgli’s Village was just ahead. The land gave little hint that habitation of any kind lay close by. To the left and straight ahead, the mountains stretched high above us, but a narrow gap between them funneled the ever-present wind into a gale, so any footprints left in the dust soon blew away. The gap also split the line of trees and shrubs that ventured out of the mountain shadows, and drew the eye northwest. Was there a glimmer of the far-off sea in the center of that gap? Even when I stood aback my pony to look, I couldn’t tell.

“Can you see the sea from here?” I asked.

“You have to scale yon mountain to see it, which is a hard, arduous climb,” Barkhuzi told me with regret as he pointed to the first of the peaks that veered northeast past the gap. “The sight’s worth the climb, though. If we had time, I’d take you and Fíli up, but Grandmother won’t let us sit here long. She’ll have us riding onto Urghul lands tomorrow eve, I’d say. We’ve dragged Grun with us long enough.”

I clambered back into my saddle. “Yah, it’ll be good to be done with that. We’ve got better things to do than to worry whether he’ll slip his bonds and wreak more havoc. Leave the viper with those who spawned him, and let them deal with him.”

“ _Skator_ , aye,” Barkhuzi avowed. “Still, we’ll have a little time to see the village this morn. After we see to the caravan, we’ll get our breakfast, and Klyn and I will show you and Fíli everything. Then we’ll find our cots for some well-deserved rest.”

“All right!” I grinned in anticipation. I might be tired after the night’s long march, but a look around Kahgli’s village wasn’t something to miss.

Only a few more moments passed before a path appeared amid the grass stubble. It was wide enough for us to travel three ponies abreast, so those of us not tending the pack ponies fell close in to either side. The way wound left and right to follow the contour of the foothills, and climbed steadily up. Finally, as we came around one last turn, a small, shallow bowl of a clearing appeared between the mountain before me and the foothill we’d just circled.

I was slow to figure out that this was not just an empty clearing. The ground bare of plants alerted me, then I spotted a fire pit with a tripod and kettle over it, and a grill to the side. But what was that thick swath of thatch that seemed to hover against the sloping side of the mountain? Now that was definitely odd...

Oh and oh, the village’s main hall was under that thatch! And there, there, and there was more thatch – the halls and homes had been partially burrowed into the slopes!

Once I understood that the thatch was rooves, the rest of the structures fell into place. Each one had a foundation and walls of the same grey stone that made up the mountainside, blending in so well that it was no wonder I hadn’t made them out at first. Stout wooden shutters were folded against the stone, leaving windows open to the air. Peeking from under the thatch were the ends of solid oaken beams, so the rooves were substantial – these dwellings would be snug against even the worst of winter weather, and could bear even a thick burden of snow.

“Have you ever seen anything like this?” Barkhuzi grinned proudly.

“I never have,” I admitted as I looked around. “There must have been shallow caves, then? That you extended with the stone walls out from the side of the mountain?”

“Just so,” Barkhuzi nodded. “The main hall’s the deepest – it goes back several feet. The smaller dwellings aren’t so deep, but they’re just right for sleeping and resting. Folk spend most of their time in the two halls, especially in winter, or out and about.”

A herald went up, and several folk, mostly greybeards, came out of the dwellings and halls to greet the caravan. Derfrulia’s appearance was a surprise, as were those of her sons and Yanna, and glad smiles turned subdued as Derfrulia explained about the chained and manacled Grun that his two guards had settled on the farthest edge of the clearing.

Barkhuzi slid off his pony, watching the low discussion between his clan seniors and the villagers. “Come on. Let them talk all they want. We’ll unload the wool, and then see about breakfast.”

I dismounted, and soon all but the clan elders were hauling sacks of wool off ponies. As I bore my first sack into the main hall, I was struck at how light and airy it was inside. Long breaks in the thatch were responsible for that; those must be blocked somehow when weather was bad, so that rain and snow didn’t inundate the hall, and at night to keep out animals. To the right, folk worked at big weaving looms; in the middle, they cut and sewed at wide worktables. The the left, still more folk cleaned raw wool, carded fleece, and spun thread. As I followed Barkhuzi inside, one of the old sires looked up from his sewing and directed us to stack the bags of wool against the leftmost wall. I dropped mine beside Barkhuzi’s, and then went outside for another. Fíli and Klyn were hard on our heels, so we worked together to take the bags from the folk unloading the ponies, which made things go faster. After spending so many days to collect, pack up, and transport all this wool, how funny was it to be done with it in just a few moments?

Derfrulia, her sons, and Yanna still spoke with the village Kahgli – did they just draw Ankulaz into that midst? – so my brother, friends, and I helped with the ponies. Once everyone stacked their personal gear to one side, lads and lasses swept the pack frames off, perhaps to a storage shed. Then the pony tenders, Fíli and I among them, had only to untack and groom the beasts. There was a good, snug barn made the same way as the rest of the village structures, so as I finished tending a pony, I led it inside the barn. Surprisingly, the barn didn’t feature stalls. If it had, only half the ponies would’ve fit inside it. Rather, it was more or less a thickly bedded open area, with a stout timber roof above supported by hefty wooden posts. Wooden mangers hung on the stone walls, and wide windows let in plenty of fresh air and light, so it was a cheerful place that smelled sweetly of good hay. The pack ponies knew what the mangers were for, because each one hastened to the nearest one to bury its nose in the fodder. There was a big trough to hold fresh water, too, and one of the villagers sat nearby to make sure that none of the ponies drank too much, which could cause sickness.

Once we’d seen all the ponies off to their rest, it was the dogs’ turn. All of us with wolfhounds sat about the clearing to brush coats and tend paws while the villagers amassed the dogs’ meat. Derfrulia had sent one of our caravan ahead yesterday to alert the village of our arrival, so hunters had already gone out to make sure we had enough meat to see to our hard-working companions. I was just as hungry as any of the dogs, but I’d tend Mhornar and Alabrin properly first, as well as all my bairns. I was humbly grateful when Klyn, Fíli, and Barkhuzi joined in to help me feed the lot.

I was gratified when Ankulaz came among us without hesitation to see to Rukhsit, too. And if the conversation between Derfrulia and her counselors paused to watch him, good. How much better than pranking was it to actually do some good?

My thanks to the Valar were utterly sincere once wool, ponies, pack frames, and dogs were finally settled! My stomach was in a knot, so empty was it, and growling louder than the dogs anticipating their breakfast. Fíli’s wasn’t much quieter, so with a sympathetic laugh, Barkhuzi beckoned to Klyn.

“We’d better find the griddle before Kíli’s stomach jumps out of his mouth and bites us,” he teased.

“Oh and oh, that’s no lie,” I groaned. “Even my boots look good enough to gnaw!”

“So do mine,” Fíli grimaced.

“Then let’s go!” Klyn tugged my arm towards the smaller of the two halls. “Griddlecakes with honey and butter!”

I hastened after my friend, then hesitated, and looked back to Ankulaz crouched beside Rukhsit. He caressed the dog with more ease than I’d seen, but he looked after us with something in his eyes, whether consideration or regret I couldn’t tell. Impulsively, I waved at him, beckoning him to join me.

A moment of hesitation... then the Urghul heir beckoned to Rukhsit, and came after me.

“Time for our breakfast, then,” I said, just to have something to say.

“Aye, ‘t would taste good,” Ankulaz agreed, falling into step beside me. Fíli’s eyes widened when he saw us, but he fell in on Ankulaz’s other side without a blink.

“I hope there’s a lot of it,” Fíli agreed, and off we went together after our friends.

Several long trestle tables filled the front part of the mess hall, where even now several villagers sat to have a cup of tea or a plate of stew or a pile of griddlecakes. The smell was so appetizing that my stomach fairly roared, making Fíli laugh. He stopped laughing when Klyn marched us up to the cooking fires in the back of the hall. A rough stone ceiling over the fires gave truth to my guess that a cave had been here before the rest of the hall. A large stone and clay oven with a tall vent was in the center; it wasn’t currently ablaze, but the cooking fires to either side of the oven were alight. The leftmost warmed a large pot of stew and a smaller one of porridge; the rightmost had a large grill atop it, and atop that was a huge slab of a griddle. Atop that were more than a dozen griddlecakes turning brown, smelling better than any perfume. My mouth watered so much that I had to swallow.

“Good morn, Grummar,” Klyn gave the old sire a wide grin and a casual bow. He pointed to me. “Quick, this one’s still growing, and he’s starving!”

“Mahal, he’s even taller than was said!” The old grizzled sire gave me an incredulous stare, but it wasn’t a mean one, so I grinned back. “You must be Kíli, then, and that would make you his brother Fíli, and...”

“And this is Ankulaz,” Barkhuzi said casually, thumping the arm of the Urghul heir. “He’s hungry, too, if not as hungry as Kíli. Still, that’s hungry enough. In fact, we’re all hungry, Grummar, and Klyn’s promised that your griddlecakes are the best anywhere, so you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“That they are!” the sire grabbed a spatula to wave it at Barkhuzi with a flourish. “Just you wait and see!”

Barkhuzi’s look of alarm might be exaggerated, but my stomach’s alarm wasn’t. “Mahal, not another wait!”

The sire guffawed as he slipped six cakes onto a plate and handed it to me. “No, no more wait! _Ceigeach_ _ìm_ and honey are over there with the forks, lad. Eat hearty.”

I didn’t wait for the rest to get their plates. I loaded _ceigeach_ _ìm_ and honey over my cakes, then took them to the nearest table. I got the dogs settled, then sat down, wasting no time to stuff huge forkfuls of deliciousness into my mouth. By the time I’d finished them, Klyn had fetched a big pot of tea and a stack of cups, then he and the rest of my friends sat around me, stuffing just as fast as I did. I threaded my way through the flight of reclining dogs, where Grummar piled another full dozen cakes on my plate.

“Mahal bless you,” I said with heartfelt gratitude, which got me a chuckle.

“Just how tall are you?” the greybeard asked, shaking his head at me.

“A full five feet,” I grinned as I laid on the _ceigeach_ _ìm_ and honey. “So far.”

Guffawing, Grummar pointed to my plate. “Maybe those will get you another inch or so.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” I admitted, “but my poor Maamr will despair if they do.”

He waved his spatula at me, urging me back to the table, which I was quick to do. As I sat down, I thought about what I’d said about not minding if I grew taller...

... and realized that I wouldn’t mind, not at all.

How many times had I cursed myself for growing so tall back in Thorin’s Halls? A thousand, or maybe ten times a thousand? Yet for the past several months, I hadn’t, not even once. I was with folk who saw past what I looked like, doing work where being tall was good.

I looked down at my plate, smiling. Yah, Grummar’s cakes were delicious, if not exactly as good as Maamr’s. But I wasn’t going back to Thorin’s Halls for anything, not even griddlecakes.

Mhornar looked up at me and whuffed, maybe laughing at my whimsy.

 

* * *

 

This was the first time since I'd come out on the grass that I’d had griddlecakes on a plate, with lots of butter and honey and a fork to eat them with, and they were a treat. The honey had a wilder tang to it than what I was used to, and the butter was _ceigeach_ _ìm_ made from goat’s milk, but those only added a bit of the exotic to a hearty, homely dish. The five of us kept old Grummar busy at his griddle for quite a while, but each time one of us went back for more, the smile on his face grew broader. Likely he knew something of the story behind Ankulaz’s appearance, but he seemed to take Barkhuzi’s casual stance to heart, and kept any comment about Clan Urghul to himself.

When we’d finally stuffed ourselves past all redemption, we filled the last empty niches with one last cup of tea, then we ventured back outside for Klyn and Barkhuzi to show us the sights. As we came outside again, Klyn gave a gusty sigh.

“Yah, that’s better,” he breathed deeply. “I’m not one who likes such a heavy roof over my head, even against the snows. Give me open air!”

“What do you do at night when you’re in the village, then?” I asked curiously, then pointed to the fire pit in the center of the clearing. “Just... sleep by the cook fire?”

“Aye, in good weather, I’ve done that,” the small Dwarf admitted with an unabashed grin, which faded when he glanced at Grun and his two guards. “This time... maybe I’ll sleep by the door of the dormitory. I think I could manage that.”

“The dormitory?” Ankulaz ventured. “What’s that?”

Klyn pointed to the hall that stood opposite from the stable across the clearing. “It’s there. The village folk have their own small places, of course, but they’re too small to hold the caravan crews or the grass folk when we’re here. So we have a dormitory where anyone can take a cot and rest well. Your dogs are welcome, too. It’s as big as the stable, and the roof’s high, so if I’m by the door, I think I’ll be all right.”

“It’s a lot of to and fro,” Barkhuzi shrugged, “but so is a tent, and the cots are good and the blankets are thick, so we’ll sleep well. Just a quick once around the village to show you all what’s what, and then we’ll do just that!”

Finding a cot sounded sublime, given the night’s hard work and the stupefying aftereffects of an enormous and delicious breakfast. But Klyn and Barkhuzi were eager to show off their village, and I wouldn’t deny them that pleasure. It was interesting to have Ankulaz along with us, too. Kíli and I of course lived in a village, so while this one focused on the wool trades, we understood about covered necessaries and stacked firewood and the different scent of wood fires as opposed to antelope chip ones. The Urghul, though... maybe he hadn’t seen a village before, given how he looked at everything with such scrutiny. What did his clan’s home look like, then? To see him marvel at the spring that supplied the villagers with its water was telling.

“Oh, that, yah,” Barkhuzi nodded, when Ankulaz impulsively stuck his hand in the deep basin. A dipper sat on the rim of the basin to offer a good wash and drink to anyone who wanted it. “That’s the small one. The bigger one’s in the back of the common hall. We’ve put a pump on it, and a big cistern. We’ve got all the fresh water we need. We even wash our plates and pots with water – no scouring with river sand, as we do on the grass.”

The Urghul glanced at Barkhuzi as if he thought my friend had teased him. But Barkhuzi backtracked to the common hall to show that he’d spoken the truth. As we saw the craft hall again, looked inside one of the small cottages, and found the necessary – complete with seats! – Ankulaz seemed more and more thoughtful.

I wondered what he thought about? But I couldn’t think of a polite way to draw him out, so didn’t try. Maybe it was best for him to take in Kahgli’s village just as Barkhuzi and Klyn showed it, and then ponder it without poking from me.

As interesting as Barkhuzi’s tour was, I was glad when it was done. We dug our packs and bow rigs out of the pile by the fire pit, and followed our friends to the dormitory. Inside we found rows and rows of cots, and bedding stacked neatly in the back.

“Take your pick, lads,” Barkhuzi murmured softly, taking in the room with a sweep of his arm. Several of our fellow caravaneers had already availed themselves of some of the cots, hence our friend’s soft voice. “Same privacy rules as for tents apply, so take your ease. Just mind your dogs stay near the walls, and clear of the aisles.”

Klyn and Barkhuzi kicked off their boots and set them on the rack by the door, so Kíli, Ankulaz, and I did likewise. Our friends chose cots right by the door, in deference to Klyn’s need for air. But when Kíli sent me an inquiring glance, I led us to some vacant ones in the back corner where there’d be room for Kíli’s bairns. I caught Kíli beckoning Ankulaz after us, so I set my pack on one of three vacant ones in a row. Rinnala was glad to curl beside my cot, tuck her nose under a paw, and shut her eyes before I’d so much as set down my bow rig. Kíli snickered, but took the corner cot and got the bairns settled around Mhornar and Alabrin against the curving back wall; Rukhsit piled in beside them. As Ankulaz took the third cot, Kíli tiptoed off to fetch an armload of pillows, sheets, and blankets. He plunked the lot on his cot, then tossed Ankulaz and me our share. The linens were clean and scented with herbs, just begging me to put them to use. I arranged them over the cot without delay.

“Valaaaaaaar,” Kíli yawned, stretching wide before he stripped down to his smalls. “I’m knackered right enough. Sleep well, all.”

My brother curled atop his cot to face me, shut his eyes, and was fast asleep in seconds. I shook my head and gave Ankulaz an amused grin.

“Sleep well,” I offered, and lay down.

“And you,” came back quietly.

Kíli’s lips twitched in a smile, proving he hadn’t fallen asleep quite as fast as I thought. Only when Ankulaz took to his cot and couldn’t see me did I indulge in my own smile.

I fell asleep before my smile faded.

 

* * *

 

When I awoke, dark was falling. Kíli still lay beside me, oblivious to the sound of people talking, the scent of good stew, and the sight of folk coming in and out, mostly out, of the dormitory. Ankulaz was gone, and so was Rukhsit, which was a good sign as far as Kíli’s prank-that-wasn’t-a-prank went. I felt much refreshed after the long sleep, and set up to stretch. Was supper imminent? I gave Kíli’s leg a shake.

“Go away,” he mumbled.

“Supper, Kíl,” I urged. “It smells good.”

“Supper?” My brother sat up slowly, but his eyes sharpened as he made sense of that. “Yah, something smells good.”

“I thought so. Come on, let’s go see what’s what.”

“Where’s Ankulaz?”

“Already up. Rukhsit’s gone, too, and so are Barkhuzi and Klyn.”

Kíli beamed. “That’s grand, isn’t it? That Rukhsit went with Ankulaz, I mean?”

“Yah, you might’ve pulled it off just as you wanted to, brother.”

“I hope so.” Kíli groped for his trews, tunic, and socks, and yanked them on. The bairn dogs still slumbered, but Rinnala, Mhornar, and Alabrin were on their feet. When we were dressed, we tidied our cots as most of the folk had done before us, and set our packs and bow rigs atop them. We roused the rest of the dogs, got our boots, and went out. As we had this morn, we saw to the dogs’ meat, then went looking for our friends.

Before we found either Barkhuzi or Klyn, Yanna found us. I met the maid with a big smile, and if hers was not as wide, I was still pleased to see it. How good was it to see her smile at all, after Grun’s machinations and her painful wounds? How much better was it when she asked if she could escort me to supper? I didn’t mind Kíli’s smirk at all when he made his excuses to go off with Klyn and Barkhuzi. In fact, I hardly minded anything at all, so happy was I to walk beside this bonny maid again. As we strolled from the dormitory to the kitchen hall, village greybeards greeted her with happy words, waves, and laughter, which was a pleasant thing to behold. With each step we took, Yanna’s guarded expression eased until she smiled and waved back with equal delight, finally relaxing in the regard of her clan.

I hoped she smiled a little wider because I was beside her, too.

Just as we made our way inside the kitchen hall, Yanna presented me to the village master. Just as Derfrulia meant horse master, so Drukat Skilami meant home master. She was Derfrulia’s sister, older by about twenty years, and had once been Kahgli’s matriarch on the grass. But she’d taken an early interest in the artisan side of the clan’s work, and had devoted herself to establishing this village some fifty years ago, and now oversaw the clan’s textile work. Like many of our folk, she’d never married or borne bairns, and was happy to leave such things to her younger sister. She was a robust, handsome dam with rich chestnut skin that had darkened in the sun, a ready smile and an even readier laugh, as down-to-earth as her plain blue tunic, brown trousers, and well-worn leather boots. She wore only small earrings for decoration – multiple beautifully smithed silver rings, some with tiny pony and goat charms a-dangle. She’d dispensed with hair beads entirely, content to arrange her tight, curly grey and white hair into lots of small twists, some of which she swept up into a knot as Cyth did. Even her clan bead was awarded little notice, and was almost buried in the knot of braids at her crown. I made my best bow to her, and told her that I was honored to meet her, and to serve with Kahgli.

“You’ve made a good account of yourself,” Drukat gave me a pleased nod. “Would that all our contract hunters set their hands to what we asked of them so well. And what’s this I hear about you and the bairn wolfhounds?”

“Oh, that’s not me,” I grinned, looking around until I spotted my little brother. There he sat eating with Klyn and Barkhuzi, stuffing his face as if he hadn’t seen food in a week. “I’m Fíli. You mean my brother, Kíli. That’s him with Barkhuzi and Klyn and the dogs all around him. The bairns have woven their spell on him, yah. He loves them, no matter how long it takes to feed them, and they follow him around like his pockets are full of treats, even when they’re not.”

“Ah, so you’re the Durin heir,” Drukat realized.

“Back in Thorin’s Halls, yah,” I admitted, and gave Rinnala’s ears a caress. “Out here, I’m pleased to be a Kahgli hunter. Rinnala’s taught me well, and so has everyone else.”

“Good lad,” Drukat gave me a great clap on the arm, and gave Yanna a wink. “And you, Yanna? Healing from that mongrel’s treachery, I hope?”

“I’m better every day, Aunt,” the maid said firmly, with satisfaction. “I don’t suppose you’ll admit that Grandmother will have us haring out to finish the end of Grun’s tale tomorrow night, will you?”

Drukat threw up her hands and laughed. “Mahal, maid, you don’t have to ask anyone that! Derfrulia’s as stubborn as I am, but only half as impatient. She’ll do what’s right to the bitter end. But having said that, if she doesn’t hare out for Urghul lands by tomorrow eve, I’ll wonder why.”

“You won’t just wonder why,” Yanna smirked. “You’ll create the biggest stir until everything’s sorted out just so!”

“Maybe I will,” Drukat chuckled, but her visage sobered as her dark eyes flicked to mine. “I’m sorry you were caught up in our old injustice, Fíli. I hope you’re healing well, too, and I thank you for your compassion for my mother.”

“I’m nearly recovered,” I replied. “And if you knew how often Cyth has steered a couple of town Dwarves away from a thousand blunders on the grass, you’d laugh. Kíli and I weren’t about to blame her for the malice of another.”

“You’re an old soul, I think. I thank you for that, too.” Drukat considered me thoughtfully, then turned her regard to Yanna. “I don’t think I’ll have to urge Derfrulia to do anything about that Urghul, sweeting. This has been a bad business, and best for all that it’s settled at last.”

“Aye,” Yanna sighed. “Though it seems hard to believe that so many years of trouble will ever be settled at last.”

“For the first time in a long, time, I can hope that we’ll reach the end this time.” She nodded towards Ankulaz, sitting by the fire with one or two of the sires his age; Rukhsit sat at his side. “That’s a good sign, no matter how much it rankles some folk.”

Yanna watched the Urghul heir for a long moment before she spoke. “He says very little these days. At first, I thought it was because he was arrogant, contemptuous. Now... I’m not so sure.”

I thought about my brother in Thorin’s Halls, why he’d grown so silent and inscrutable, and how long it’d taken me to sort out why. “Life with Urghul... it can’t have been easy.”

Drukat didn’t speak, only considered the maid beside me.

“No... it can’t have,” Yanna admitted.

“You think on that,” Drukat nodded. “Now, to the pots with you. Fíli’s likely as hungry as his brother after so much talk!”

“Of course,” Yanna gave me an apologetic look as her great-aunt grinned at us before spotting her sister and hastening off with a call and a wave. “I’m sorry, Fíli.”

“No apology needed,” I assured her. “This is perfect timing, anyway – look, a fresh pan of something just came out of the oven. Whatever it is, it looks wonderful.”

“Oh, those are buns stuffed with meat and cheese,” Yanna explained, beckoning me after her. “They might be something like those ham buns you told me that your mother makes. Though these have rock goat cheese and antelope meat in them...”

We made our way past the oven and the cooking fires, both of us piling our plates high. The village dishes weren’t like those made among the tents, because the village had the luxury of a permanent oven and greater storage capacity for ingredients that the tents didn’t. So the meat and cheese buns weren’t exactly like Maamr’s, but they were delicious and reminded me of breakfast around Maamr’s kitchen table. The condiments were different, too, and the stew was well-simmered goat and yak rather than deer or mutton or beef. But all of it was spiced with the company of a bonny maid, and that made everything fine.

When both of us had stuffed ourselves silly, we sat lingering over a last cup of tea to watch the bustle of folk coming to and fro. After so many weeks on the grass where folk were few and the sky high above was the predominant feature, the kitchen hall felt close and crowded. I finished my tea, and looked to my companion.

“I’d like a breath of air and a look at the stars,” I murmured. “I’d be pleased if you joined me.”

Yanna’s smile was surprised. “I wouldn’t have thought a town Dwarf would feel the close confines so soon, after only a few months on the grass.”

I grinned. “I wouldn’t have thought so, either, but apparently we were both wrong. I like the wide sky above me.”

“I feel the same way,” Yanna agreed, so we got up from the trestle bench, washed our plates and cups in the wash pots, and stacked them with the other clean dishes to dry. Then we ventured outside, with Rinnala trailing me. There were still many folk moving through the clearing, and there was Grun staked at the end with his guards nearby, but the sky stretched above, and I felt less crowded. The trees that ringed the village sent up a rustle of leaves as the wind stirred them, but it was an intermittent, soft, swishing sound, not like the constant drone of the wind out the grass. Yanna steered us away from the clearing, and I followed, not wanting to remain within sight of the Urghul second, either.

After a few steps, I sorted out that Yanna didn’t meander at random, but led us a short way up the slope behind the village. Rinnala padded after us without concern, as if she knew the way. I trusted that both maid and dog knew better than I whether to watch for night prowlers, but despite their casual movements, I kept an eye and ear out for anything unexpected. An owl hooted some distance away. The night hadn’t quite reached its deepest, so I tried to pick out the bird against the branches – yah, there was the flare of immense, soft wings unfurling as the bird went aloft and flew higher up the mountain. Belatedly, I hastened to catch up with Yanna, who waited for me on a slab of grey stone that thrust out from the slope, making a wide, level shelf perfect for a pair of young Dwarves and a dog to perch upon. Rinnala leaped up behind me, whuffed once, then curled to one side to look out into the dark over her paws. A wide swath of the sky wheeled above us, where already stars glimmered as they woke from their day’s slumber. I traced the wide, foamy band of the river of stars from one side of the trees to the other, and picked out the brightest constellations.

“So beautiful,” I hummed, looking up, and beside me, Yanna hummed in agreement. Despite the wonder overhead, it was very easy to turn my gaze on the maid beside me, for she was another beautiful sight, if a more earthly one. I thought about Master Dwalin warning me to keep my eyes off this sprightly maid, and then I thought about Uncle Thorin doing the same. Then I stopped thinking, and brushed a light kiss on Yanna’s cheek, setting the tiny bells in the fringe of her beard to chiming. “A fit setting for a beautiful maid.”

My whispers weren’t repaid with a coy batting of eyes, or a silly giggle. Rather, Yanna took a deep breath as she looked up at the sky, then let it out in a long, drawn-out exhale. I didn’t need light to see how she relaxed the last of the wariness that had been in evidence for so long. I sensed it, as if she laid down a long-borne burden with relief.

“Oh, Mahal,” she whispered, still watching the sky. “How good is it to slip away from clan standings and rankings and expectations!”

“You don’t have much chance to do that, not with folk so close on the grass,” I agreed sympathetically. “Here in the village, you have more of a chance.”

“Is that true of Thorin’s Halls, too?” Yanna asked.

“Yah,” I agreed, taking myself in hand. If Yanna wanted to talk, then talk we would, no matter how much I wanted more than that. Sitting so close beside her, hearing her soft voice tickle my ears, was a gift to enjoy, and I would, even if nothing came after it.

“Where do you go?” Yanna asked. “Can you see the sky as easily there as here, or do you have to take refuge inside?”

“When the weather’s warm, there are places outside. There are more trees there, taller ones. Kíli and I built a platform or two in some of the highest oaks, so they’re safe from interrupting creatures, be they foxes or Dwarves. Or deer, for that matter. Do you have deer this far north?”

“Only a few,” Yanna answered.

“They’re right pests, and those antlers – Valar, they can turn dangerous if you startle them the wrong way.”

Yanna chuckled. “Has that ever happened to you?”

I snorted, recalling when an indignant deer had ruined a fine assignation one spring night. “In the worst way. If curses could kill, that lad would’ve been dead long before the moon had come up, even before he’d taken another bite of grass.”

Yanna’s chuckle was soft, but so was the chiming of the bells in her beard. Valar, I so wanted to kiss her again, but my first one hadn’t met with a response, so I merely grinned –

Yanna’s beard tickled my cheek when she returned my kiss with her own.

“Maybe this will take some of the sting out of the memory,” she said, touching her hand to mine.

I gulped down my surprise. “Valar, maid, it does.”

“I’m glad.” She offered me another kiss, which lingered on my lips with exquisite delicacy. It was so entrancing that I kissed back, and not chastely. My loins tightened at the fire Yanna lit in me. I couldn’t think straight, but every fractured idea in my head centered around this bonny maid who kissed me so sweetly.

“Yanna,” I breathed. “Valar, maid, you’ll turn me into jelly if you kiss me again. But... I’m just a poor lad who knows he shouldn’t dally with his employer’s granddaughter and heir, even though she’s the bonniest, loveliest, most wonderful maid in all of Middle Earth, and I’m besotted with her. I won’t dishonor you.”

“Fíli, you couldn’t dishonor anyone if you tried,” she kissed back gently. “You’re heir of your clan, too, and you know what duty is, just as I do, and you know we’ll both do our duties as we should, as they come to us, no matter what we may want along the way. But right now, we’re not duty-bound heirs; here, we’re just a maid and a lad. You’re kind, honorable, and handsome, and you’ve been a good friend. Savor the moment with me.”

Oh, how I wanted to! How some parts of me wanted more than that! But I forced myself to think of what Yanna had said, to give myself one last chance to be noble before I gave in to the most basic of drives and the soft touches of the most dazzling of maids...

Nobility had no chance tonight.

“You’re right,” I whispered. “No one else understands our positions as well as we do, the rigors, the demands. Maybe we’re the only ones we can dally with because of that. But that’s perfect, because you’re the only one I want to dally with. So... whatever I have is yours.”

Yanna’s breath caught, and her soft lips nibbled at mine again. As the cautionary words of Clan Durin’s elders retreated into the darkest recess of my mind, I gave myself to the sweetest maid I’d ever met. How delicious were the caresses we traded? How tender were the touches we lavished on each other? And how spectacular was it to rise under the hands of a confident, unabashed maid who wanted our pleasure as much as I did? No town maid had ever been so direct, and I was overwhelmed. We savored each other not once, but several times, without reserve or stint or regret. Time slipped by as the stars roved overhead, and the night darkened to keep us in our private moment for as long as we could make it last.

Much of the night was gone before reality intruded on our cocoon in the dark. Tomorrow eve would surely see us both trotting north across the grass to deliver Grun back to Urghul, and the ride would be determined and unrelenting. We needed all the rest we could take before beginning that journey, so we helped each other dress back to respectability. We traded a last handful of kisses, each one more lingering than the last. There were no words that did justice to all we’d shared under the stars, so neither of us ventured to find any. I roused Rinnala, who’d slept peacefully no matter how her silly lad and the bonniest maid had rivaled the stars for ardor, and we retraced our steps back to the village clearing. I saw Yanna to the small cottage where she would sleep, and then took myself to the necessary before heading back to the dormitory.

Rinnala and I were quiet as we tiptoed back to my cot. To one side, Kíli slept without moving; to the other, Ankulaz was equally still. It took only a moment to move my pack and bow rig onto the floor, and Rinnala settled beside Alabrin with a sigh. I stripped off my trews and tunic, and lay down.

Just before I shut my eyes, I could have sworn that Kíli’s lips quirked into a gleeful smile.

I smiled, too, but my brother wasn’t the reason for it.


	59. Chapter 59

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kíli enjoys his last hours at the Kahgli village, then the caravan turns east.
> 
> Urghul lands lie ahead.

As soon as Yanna hurried up to Fíli, I knew I’d be on my own for supper. Valar, to see them smile at each other told even the most disinterested lad in Middle Earth (me) that neither of them would see anything but each other tonight. Maybe a few weeks ago I would’ve made a nuisance of myself about it, but I’d seen my brother almost die by treachery, and the maid beside him as well, so I kept any needling to myself. All in all, Fíli was the best brother anyone could have, and Yanna had been more than decent to me. Both would have clan duties to fulfill before too many decades passed, no matter what they might want for themselves, and if tonight they found a brief respite from those duties with each other, so be it. It wasn’t the same as me finding solace with Kahgli’s wolfhounds, but it was solace nevertheless. Since Fíli had done so much to give me mine, I was glad to return the kindness. Tonight, Fíli could see to himself without close attendance of his eerily fucking second.

Klyn and Barkhuzi were just going into the kitchen hall, so I jogged ahead with my flight of dogs to join them. Tonight’s meal was more like what Maamr would’ve served, from fresh, hot bread, a mix of vegetables that tasted strange after so long without them, and both stew and roast meat. There was hot tea, and warm milk, and arkhi for those who wanted it, and pastries stuffed with fruit paste. There were tables and trestles and plates and utensils beyond a boot knife, too. How odd – I’d been on the grass long enough that all those things looked unusual.

Before I got my plate, I scanned for Ankulaz, but he sat with Derfrulia, Drukat, and a lot of Kahgli elders, so I trusted he was in good hands. He didn’t look put out – oh and oh, there was Rukhsit beside him, too! I smothered a gleeful smile. Yah, that was fine!

I was still stuffing myself when Fíli and Yanna slipped outside, but I didn’t speak of it. I didn’t think Klyn or Barkhuzi would care, but who knew what anyone who overheard me would say? Better to leave it alone.

“Would you like to come with us to the washhouse?” Klyn said eagerly. “It’d be better if it were winter, because we’d stoke the fire up and have a good steam. But even in the summer the water’s warmer than the Lhûn, and there’s plenty of soap. Just the thing to wash off the trip here.”

“You... make steam in the winter?” I asked dubiously, as I got up with my friends. “What for? And how?”

“To get warm, of course!” Barkhuzi laughed. “Winter’s bitter here, but we’ve got no end of wood, of course, and good water. So we make a fire under a big rack of rocks, and when they’re hot, we pour water on them for steam, and it gets us warm fast. Nothing cleans a filthy Dwarf better than steam and soap, either! It makes the cold bearable. We don’t need the steam today, but the soap works just as well in summer as it does in winter. It’d feel good to sleep clean tonight, for Mahal knows we won’t have another chance until we’re done with Grun.”

I assented, so in short order my friends showed me the luxury of a small cave where a fire kept a huge cauldron of water steaming. A vent in the rock above the cauldron carried away any smoke. An unheated cauldron stood by the entrance; maybe that was the reserve water supply for the heated one. Several Dwarves, lads and lasses, already took advantage of the respite to scrub, and before long I’d used a handful of rough grass and a lot of creamy soap to scour away every bit of dirt. Even my hair and fingers and toes were so clean that Maamr wouldn’t have recognized them. The hot water was well below the scalding point, but it felt hotter, and turned everyone’s skin bright ruddy red, just like the embers glowing under the steaming cauldron. I was so hot that I thought I’d pop like one of those glowing embers, which made my friends laugh.

“That means your ready for the cool rinse!” Klyn grinned. He took up a small bowl, scooped up some water from the cauldron by the door, and turned towards me. “Hold your arms out!”

When I did, Klyn and Barkhuzi doused me with several bowls of the cool water, even my hair. Valar, that felt good! I returned the favor to help rinse both of my friends, then we dried off with old, clean cloths, resumed our clothing, and went out to collect our dogs. Klyn found us a bit of moss under a tree just a few steps out of the village center, and we sat ourselves down to enjoy the dusk. I felt refreshed and invigorated after the boiling heat and then the cooling rinse, and cleaner than I’d been in months. Maamr would’ve rolled her eyes, even as she approved of my improved smell.

“The word is that we’ll leave for Urghul tomorrow just after noon,” Barkhuzi said softly as we lounged on the moss. “So make sure you take to your cot early tonight, and sleep as much of the morn away as you can. We’ll move as fast as Yanna and Ankulaz can manage to get this last bit done.”

“How long will it take us to reach Urghul’s tents, Khuzi?” Klyn asked just as softly, as if he didn’t want others to hear. Indeed, his mate shrugged with as much circumspection.

“Hard to say. Straight northeast, across the Lhûn, and then some ways east; all told, it might be a hundred and fifty miles. Five or six days at best, depending on how far we have to go once we cross the Lhûn. We might even see the ice bay.”

“What, Forochel?” I blinked.

“I hope not,” Barkhuzi shook his head. “The edge won’t be frozen at this time of year, but it’s not fit to drink – salty, as it’s part of the sea. And I hear tell there are lots of flies there. Folk call them the spawn of Morgoth. A barren place.”

“Ugh,” Klyn shuddered, and I felt just as revolted. I’d had enough of flies to last a lifetime!

“If it’s so barren, then that means... wouldn’t it offer poor forage, even in deep summer?” I asked.

Barkhuzi nodded. “Aye, it’s not much. But if Urghul overgrazes the southernmost grass in their range, they won’t have enough for their ponies in the winter. So they have to travel far to save what they can.”

I hummed. That sounded like a hardscrabble existence, even in good years, and Kahgli’s tales had mentioned bad years besides.

“What’s their village like?” I asked, glancing at Klyn. “Do you remember?”

Klyn shook his head. “Urghul doesn’t have a village in the mountains like this one. They’re always under canvas. I don’t remember, but Maamr told me that even on the southernmost slopes, Urghul’s grass is sparse. She said that sometimes they even have to move their tents halfway through the winter, so that their ponies had enough to eat. So I suppose it’s the same all year round as Kahgli’s tents are in the summer.”

“Are there as many Urghul folk as Kahgli?”

Barkhuzi shook his head. “No one knows. No Kahgli has ever set foot among Urghul tents. It’s a long way to travel, and Urghul’s never been friendly enough for anyone to want to make the trip. So there may be a lot of folk, and there may be a few. But I’d guess only a few, given how harsh their range is.”

“So would I,” Klyn nodded. “There’s never a lot of them even at the fall festival, when everyone gathers to sell their goods.”

“How does everyone know when to gather for the fall festival?” I asked. “Do you send riders around?”

“Yah,” Barkhuzi grinned, “and then no work gets done for the next week, because everyone’s so excited.”

“Then after that, there’s too much work that gets done, because everyone’s so eager to get their things ready for the market,” Klyn laughed. “You won’t believe how many grand things there are to see, Kíl! Clothes, furs, baskets, pack frames and saddle blankets and strapping, fly screens, cook pots, horseshoes, food, medicines – no end of goods! And of course Kahgli has ponies and goats and horses to sell, just as Distin has yak goods, and Regha has dogs. It’s always the most fun.”

“Valar, it sounds fine just to look, which is all I’ll be doing,” I replied. “Neither Fíli nor I brought much coin with us.”

“Almost no one brings coin, Kíl,” Barkhuzi explained. “What good are coins out on the grass? You can’t use them for anything – they’re just something else to lug, and no one wants to do any more of that than we have to. Barter and trade, that’s the way on the grass. All those furs you’ve been amassing? Take some with you to the festival, and you’ll have no trouble trading them for something else. Tough yak leggings for the winter, or new boots for your brother, or any number of things. Even a pony or a saddle, though those can run you dear.”

“I suppose I’ll be one of those doing too much work, then, to get all my skins tanned,” I teased. “It’d be good to have them if I see something I like.”

“Yah, that’s the spirit,” Klyn nodded. “Khuzi’s shown me how to make stout rigging ropes as he learned when he fostered with Distin, and we’ve already got a pile of them to take. Plus we have a few furs, too, though not as many as you do.”

Talk drifted from bartering and trading to the festival games, and of course my friends shared a lot of talk about the horse races, the dog competitions, and so on. But after a while, it was clear that my friends wanted time for themselves, just as Fíli and Yanna had. Since I’d turned a benevolent eye on my brother, there was no reason why I wouldn’t offer my closest friends the same courtesy, so I excused myself to lead the dogs back to the village.

Now where to go? I wasn’t about to venture too far from the village, no matter how many dogs I had with me. Nor would I find a big tree to climb where I could listen to the night, because that would leave my dogs below, and the bairns would set up a whine. Staying in the clearing wasn’t comfortable, given that Grun was at the far end of it with his silent guards. A collection of plates and cups around the prisoner revealed that Kahgli hadn’t stinted rations for the disgraced Urghul second. How he’d managed to eat it with his sliced tongue, though... eh, maybe it’d healed for the most part by now, but it likely was still tender. Whether it was or not, I didn’t want to look at Grun any more than he wanted to look at me. So I ended up retreating to the dormitory. I wasn’t all that sleepy, but tomorrow’s journey would be arduous. Not only that, I’d crossed Tobazel’s path once, and just the sight of me might put the Urghul patriarch in a fouler temper. Ankulaz wasn’t on his cot, and I didn’t expect Fíli for hours, so I got the dogs settled without having to care about being quiet. Then I stripped down to my smalls, and lay down. It was good to be clean and dry and full and content...

I drifted off.

Ankulaz came in at some point, and Rukhsit stirred the dogs as she wormed her way into their nest.

I drifted off again.

A long time after that, Fíli tiptoed in. Valar, he smelled! It wasn’t a bad stench, but there was as much maid as lad in it, and I couldn’t resist a grin. I might not want to indulge in such things myself, but I could certainly snicker when my brother came home reeking like someone else, and what he and someone else had shared in the night.

Grinning, I drifted off yet again.

The next time I roused, it was late morn, almost noon, and I was starving. Fíli was still asleep, and so was Ankulaz, so I got the dogs outside quickly. I made the usual trip to the necessary, then to the kitchen to snatch a handful of Grummar’s stuffed rolls, then to the dam who sliced the morn’s rations for the dogs. Thank the Valar that Rukhsit had remained with Ankulaz, because it took a long time to singlehandedly feed seven wolfhounds as carefully as they needed! At least Grummar’s rolls blunted the worst edges of my hunger until the dogs had had their fill. Then it was on to my breakfast.

I wasn’t through before the stir started about Derfrulia heading north with Grun. Fíli appeared in the middle of it, looking settled and content, if rumpled, and he still reeked. As quickly as folk bustled about to ready the caravan, I didn’t tease, but merely wrinkled my nose and told him about the washhouse; he wasted no time running off for a quick scrub after he fed Rinnala. A cleaner and better-smelling brother reappeared to wolf down his breakfast beside me, then Klyn and Barkhuzi helped us tidy our space in the dormitory for the next Dwarves who needed a comfortable cot for the night. We hastened out of the dormitory with our packs and bow rigs to find folk already mustering the ponies we’d ride north.

Valar, how the demeanor of the village had changed! A few moments ago, I’d sat quietly stuffing porridge and griddlecakes down my throat, and everyone had smiled as they’d gone about their work. Now, Derfrulia stood with arms akimbo as she surveyed the folk preparing the ponies, her face as grim as if she were about to go to war.

Maybe she was, which meant that maybe Fíli and I were, too.

In minutes, we were ready to leave. There were the twenty-seven of us who’d made the journey from Kahgli grass, and all the pack ponies, but the frames atop the ponies were empty but for our traveling supplies. Did that mean that Derfrulia planned to ride straight home to Kahgli grass once we dispensed with Grun? There was no explanation offered, and given the grim mood, I didn’t ask. I found my Lissa, made sure she was comfortable, and climbed into the saddle, ready for whatever would come.

It was telling that the terse Derfrulia found no words for our departure. There was merely an exchange of hugs between many of the villagers and the grass folk, including the Kahgli matriarch and her sister. Grummar came out to give us a send-off, even nodding kindly to me, which I returned with thanks. But Grummar wasn’t content to send me off with just a wave – he pressed a packet of something into my hands.

“Here, lad; stow this in your pack. It’s a long, empty ride to Urghul lands, and you’ll want these when your stomach threatens to gnaw through your spine – fruit biscuits and dried meat cakes. They’ll keep you going.”

“Thank you!” I exclaimed. “That’s very generous of you, Grummar. My stomach and I are most grateful.”

The old villager chuckled, but the sound was subdued given the general somberness. “Aye, keep yourself safe, lad, and those dogs, too. I hope to see you at the fall festival.”

“And I you, Grummar. When we get there, I’ll do my best to win the horse race for Kahgli.”

“I know you will! Safe journey.”

“And safe abiding,” I returned.

As the old cook stepped back, I hastened to stow his welcome offering in the pack behind my saddle, and gathered up Lissa’s reins. Derfrulia was mounted now, and so were her sons. Yanna and Ankulaz and Fíli were ready, and up went the last of the hunters and drovers. Grun was bound atop his longsuffering pony, and his dour guards flanked him on either side. I looked away hastily before the Urghul second’s feral glare snared my eyes, and looked instead to the horse maid at the head of the caravan. Derfrulia nudged her pony, and the caravan, now all but a war party, paced slowly down the track.

Just before we rounded the curve that would hide the village from view, I cast a look back. I might never see this place again, which filled my heart with regret. Its folk had been hearty and welcoming, and no one had thought me a freak. I’d savored that, and I’d miss the warm feeling the next time I came to Thorin’s Halls.

Derfrulia held us to a walk for only an hour or so; as soon as the track widened, then vanished, and the foothills sank into undulations of grass, we spread out of our narrow line. Even though we were still close to the mountains, the sun was only a little past her zenith, and her heat baked us as thoroughly as she did the grass. Despite the heat, Derfrulia urged us forward at a ground-eating trot. Only some hours later, when we stopped to tend to necessities, did I understand the horse maid’s urgency – we carried only a limited amount of drinking water. The bulging water skins aback several of the pack ponies had to last until we reached the northernmost end of the Lhûn, which was some forty miles. It was no wonder that those who brought the water skins around urged everyone not to drink too much. We didn’t forget our precious wolfhounds; their food bowls came out to offer each dog a welcome drink, carefully held so that the dogs didn’t gulp too fast or take in too much air with their water. Not a drop was wasted. Rations went around, mostly dried meat and biscuits, dry fare at best, but at least the meat hadn’t been cured with salt, which would have made the scant water rations an agony.

We rode on through the night, stopping a time or two, but only briefly. It was amazing how much cooler it was! We were drawing closer to the ice bay of Forochel with each step, so maybe the winds that swept the grass held more of the bay’s northern chill than I was used to. Whatever the reason, the change was welcome after the day’s intense heat, and we made good time. Not until dawn was just past did we stop, make our hasty camp, and see to the ponies. Rations remained dried food, but all of us had a good long draught of water, so we’d get by. There was no time to hunt fresh meat for the dogs, so they made do with some of the dried meat soaked in water. None of the dogs seemed particularly enthused with such mushy, stringy food, nor would I have been, but hunger encouraged them to make do as their Dwarves did. I stood as part of the first watch over the camp, but we saw very little other than the stars above us. I threw myself under the canvas and slept without waking until someone roused me two hours after noon the next day.

The second day of our journey went much as the first, though I thought our pace quickened. Klyn said that Derfrulia was eager to reach the Lhûn, but not just for water. Dwarves might fare well on dried rations, but dogs didn’t, so once we reached the river, we’d take time to hunt proper food for our companions. We’d keep a closer watch, too. This far north, the Lhûn was the boundary between Kahgli and Urghul lands, so wolves wouldn’t be our only concern. So would folk who might consider our caravan trespassers, and react before we could say a word.

Under such a pace, we reached the Lhûn just at the next dawn. What a relief it was to fall out of the saddle and unkink my protesting legs! I gritted my teeth and helped raise the canvas with everyone else, but from the grunts and groans, I wasn’t the only Dwarf who felt the rigors of two days in the saddle at speed. When I was asked to go with the party who’d hunt for fresh meat, I nearly cried, but up on my pony I went, got bow in hand, and headed down the riverbank with the other hunters.

Fortunately, none of us were eager to move quickly, so we paced along in silence, hoping to spot antelope coming to the river to drink once the sun rose. So we did, after another hour of riding and waiting, and most of the chase was away from me, so I didn’t have much chance to add to the larder. Then I surprised a pair of the small creatures away from the rest, so I had something to add to our take.

I was even gladder to get off my pony and butcher the meat, because my legs were afire. I made it back to camp without letting on to my discomfort, and was entirely grateful when Fíli came to take my pony.

“I’ll see to him,” my brother urged. “I know your legs hurt even if no one else does, so go tend your dogs and then yourself. There’s tea and stew already.”

“Valar praise you,” I breathed, and touched my forehead to Fíli’s. “I can just about see to get the dogs’ meat, and that’s bloody well it.”

Fíli grinned. “I don’t doubt it. Go on, Even Mhornar looks knackered.”

My poor queen did, so when I saw to my dogs, she was the one I fed first, and Alabrin beside her.

Rukhsit hadn’t come hunting with me, which suited me well for two reasons. It’d be grand if she’d finally turned from me to Ankulaz, of course. But this morn, it meant I had one less dog to feed again, and that was a bigger gift than it had been on our last day in the village.

Dogs fed, it was my turn. The stew as mostly dried meat in water, but the dogs’ leftovers had gone into the pot, which improved its savor immensely. I downed several bowls of that, had a brief splash of hands and face in the river, and then crawled under the canvas beside Fíli. I was asleep before I’d taken another breath.

Fili shook me awake perhaps three hours after noon. We had a more substantial breakfast, for more hunters had gone out to fetch fresh food for the dogs. By the time all the dogs were fed, we toasted the rest over a fire on skewers, which cooked fast. By the time we had the canvas packed, the skewers were cool enough to stow in the baggage without burning anything. Off we set again.

I’d expected Derfrulia to cross the river first thing, but of course she was wiser than I was. It was much more prudent for her to lead us eastward on Kahgli lands as long as she could. Maybe we’d be fortunate enough to spot Urghul folk on the other side of the river, and could parley with them before we ventured across. Still, we’d have to cross soon. This part of the river ran directly east, but in perhaps thirty miles it’d turn southeast, and then a little farther on almost directly south. If we hadn’t seen sign of Urghul by that point, then we’d have to cross the river.

Despite the fast pace, this part of our journey was easier, because we had the river nearby to refresh us whenever we stopped, and the night air remained cool. Antelope were plentiful when we stopped each dawn, so the dogs ate well. So did we, if our food didn’t have the savor we were used to in camp. But those two days passed well enough. Grummar’s biscuits and cakes further eased my way, and I was glad to share them with Fíli and Barkhuzi and Klyn.

On the next day, we reached the part of the Lhûn where it bent southeast. We hadn’t yet seen any sight of Urghul or anyone else, so we camped on Kahgli’s side of the river for the last time, and took our rest through the heat of the day. Once we’d slept, we’d ford the river.

When Merruli woke those of us under the canvas, four hours remained before sunset. Clouds ventured over the sky from the north and west, and the air was close and hot despite the wind. Maybe we’d have rain tonight, or maybe even before that. Everyone rushed to eat, feed the wolfhounds, and load the pack ponies. Even this far from the mountains, the Lhûn ran swifter than it did near the main Kahgli camp, so we wanted to cross it before the rain fell, while we still had a clear view of the riverbed. We stripped down, and set to ferrying the laden ponies across.

Happily, our crossing was easy and uneventful. As soon as we resumed our clothing and checked the ponies, Derfrulia beckoned everyone but Grun and his guards close.

“We’re now on Urghul lands,” she said softly, and gestured to the Urghul heir beside her. “Before we crossed the river, Ankulaz accompanied us as our guest. Now we accompany him as his. We will behave ourselves accordingly – as guests, as we would expect of those who come on our lands. We will bear our weapons at the ready, but only in defense – no one is to attack anyone or anything other than wolves without my express order. If Ankulaz tells us of Urghul customs that are unfamiliar to us, we will observe them, as long as they do not violate Kahgli customs. When we come upon Urghul’s camp, we will hold in place while Ankulaz and I explain the reason of our journey. We will return Grun to his father peaceably. Once we do so, Urghul may choose not to extend hospitality to us. We will take no offense at this, but will depart peacefully and return to our lands. Is this clear?”

Fíli and I exchanged looks, but we spoke our understanding and agreement with the others.

“You’re all going to die!” Grun shouted from between his guards. His words were garbled from his split tongue, but they were clear enough to leave no doubt as to what he said. “You’re on Urghul grass now, and you’ll never see your cursed lands again!”

A murmur skittered between folk, but Derfrulia’s expression never changed. “We do not heed words from vipers.”

“This is the land of the Taalderfruli!” Grun screamed, laughing. From the corner of my eye I saw him, his face twisted into a sneer. He poked his maimed tongue at one and all, which was a disconcerting sight. Had the weeks of shunning pushed him to madness? “The serpent speaks for the Taalderfruli, and I say he’ll call lightning fire down on you all!”

No one said anything that I could make out, but a few eyed the clouds overhead and shook their heads at each other. But Klyn’s muttered imprecation was Orcish, said with feeling despite his whispered tone, and his glare at the Urghul second was fierce.

“ _Skator kurvanog_ , the viper tries to cast his spell over us again!” Klyn snapped, loud enough for all to hear, even Grun. “He tries to scare us by calling the Taalderfruli! But what happened the last time the Taalderfruli came? It was Kíli aback Kulomar, and he brought Kahgli to our senses despite anything you could do about it, Grun! So go ahead, call on the Taalderfruli if you dare, because you’ll get the same thing again, only double!”

“Maybe triple,” Barkhuzi growled, turning the full force of his angry gaze on Grun.

“Or worse,” Fíli added with a glower, as he and I moved to stand beside Barkhuzi and Klyn.

“Well said,” Derfrulia seconded her grandson and his mate, and a rumble of voices rose in agreement. “Come! The time for words with a viper is past! We head for Urghul! May Mahal guide us to them safely, and sooner rather than later!”

With grim determination, Derfrulia mounted her pony and turned directly east. The rest of us followed in kind.

If I’d thought our company had become more war party than caravan before, now brought the reality of that. Maybe we were a defensive rather than an offensive party, but we kept arrows nocked even at speed, and blades stowed near to hand on saddles and in boots. We wrapped our head cloths tightly to keep hair and braids out of the way. Beside and around us, our dogs ranged as alertly as if they scented wolves. Even hours later, as the sun waned behind the coming clouds and early darkness fell, the sense of being at war pervaded my thoughts. When we stopped for a short rest, I said as much to Fíli.

“Yah, it does feel like we ride to war,” he murmured lowly as I offered him one of Grummar’s meat cakes.

“I half expect Master Dwalin ride up with axes at the ready. I wish he would. He’d set Tobazel back on his heels.”

Fíli’s face was grim as he gnawed on his meat cake. “And more would be the joy of that.”

“Yah.”

Fíli didn’t reply, so I eyed the Dwarves moving stealthily around us, and gave Mhornar a quick caress. We still had a few minutes, so I nudged my brother.

“What do you think our chances are to ditch Grun and get ourselves back where we belong without a fight?”

Fíli shook his head, only a slight movement. He looked around us warily, like a general considering tactics. His blue eyes mirrored Uncle Thorin’s iron determination, and his stance was no less adamant. “We don’t know how many Urghuls there are. We don’t know whether Tobazel will listen to Ankulaz or not, or whether he’ll listen to Grun’s blather. Maybe he hates Kahgli so much that he won’t listen to anything Derfrulia says. We’re heavily armed, so that should deter Tobazel somewhat, unless his fury governs him more than his sense. I’d leave him to Derfrulia, Ankulaz, and her sons. The ones I’ll watch are Tobazel’s supporters.”

“Just as Master Dwalin taught us,” I agreed. “Most eyes will be on Tobazel, so our eyes will be on his seconds, to watch for a blindside feint.”

“Exactly,” Fíli agreed.

“We could pass that along to Klyn and Barkhuzi,” I suggested.

“Good idea,” Fíli nodded. His glowering demeanor crumbled into a faint smile, and he nodded at me. “Eerily fucking second, yah.”

I gave him an appreciative grin, but it was short-lived. The word went around to climb back atop our ponies, and off we rode again.

The rain began some hour or two after sundown, and continued through the night. It wasn’t a downpour, more of a gentle, soaking rain, reminding me of spring rains in Thorin’s Halls. But given how far we were from the mountains, which blocked much of the clouds from the steppe, it didn’t last long. The dirt underneath our ponies’ hooves turned soft and squishy, but the mud was only an inch or two, so didn’t slow our progress at all. We were wet through to our skins, and the dogs were well sodden, but on we trotted. I passed our plan to watch Tobazel’s seconds to Klyn and Barkhuzi, which met with their approval, and in return they told me to watch for any spark of flame over the grass, which most likely would be the Urghul’s beacon fire. I passed that to Fíli, so now we had more to watch for in the dark than stealthy wolves.

The night passed without sign of anything. I didn’t hear anything but the sound of our passage, not even the nicker of another pony or the bark of an antelope. There was no sign of wolves, either. By the time dawn came, the mud was barely damp, so we rode on until it was dry before making our bare camp. This time, Fíli and I stood watch during the last of the afternoon shifts, but again, nothing untoward appeared.... though I noticed that only the most senior folk went out to hunt the dogs’ meat. Derfrulia intended to hold her youngest and most inexperienced folk close at hand.

Our journey through the night passed as uneventfully as it had the night before. It was hard to think of this as a war party now, given the lack of anything happening, only the most boring of routines, as tame as a bairn’s first riding lesson. We continued to travel steadily east without deviation. The sun’s heat didn’t seem quite so broiling, or maybe the wind blowing steadily from the northwest off Forochel cooled it. The grass under our ponies’ hooves was thin, already brown. I saw a few antelope, but no ponies. Where were Urghul’ herds? Had they driven them farther north to save their range? How far did one have to go north before the land reflected the curse of Melkor, and remained permanently in winter?

Perhaps two hours remained before dawn when we crested the next ridge and spotted the first glimmer of light, far, far ahead. Had we found the Urghul’s camp? Derfrulia called a halt, urging us to rest while two of our wily hunters ventured ahead as scouts. I was too on edge to sleep, but Fíli urged me to try.

“Rest while you can, brother,” he said. “If it’s nothing, then we’ll ride on. If it’s the Urghul camp, Derfrulia will likely hold us here until dawn. That’ll let Urghul see us approach, so they don’t feel like we’re about to attack them. Either way, it might be a long time before we rest again, so make the most of the moment.”

That was easy to say, and hard to do. I should’ve dismounted and given my steadfast dogs a caress or two, but I was too keyed up, so I nudged my pony up to the front of the line, and stood atop my saddle to gaze out at that tantalizing glimmer of flame.

An hour passed, then the soft, swift beat of cantering hooves reached my ears.

“Riders,” I said softly to Fíli, who’d ignored his own advice to stand beside my patient pony.

“I’ll pass the word,” my brother said, and turned swiftly to do so. As I dropped back into my saddle, and made sure my arrow was properly nocked, all of our party mounted their ponies and turned towards the approaching riders.

“It’s the Urghul’s camp,” came our hunters' breathless announcement.

Excitement rippled through our party, but Derfrulia called us to attention at once.

“Everyone, have a quick bite of something and a drink of water,” she ordered. “Settle yourselves.”

My mouth was dry, and I wasn’t the least hungry, so it was pride more than appetite that made me wash half a meat cake down my throat with several sips of water. Never would anyone say that Kíli, son of Dís, sister’s son and second heir to Thorin Oakenshield, head of the House of Durin and rightful king of all Dwarvish folk, had been invited to eat and hadn’t been able to choke down the first mouthful! Fíli managed the other half of the meat cake with about as much ease, but we both got the deed done, and were ready when Derfrulia turned to scan us.

“Kahgli, stand firm, and remember your honor,” Derfrulia ordered us.

“Aye, Derfrulia,” we all chorused.

The sun peeked above the horizon. Derfrulia nudged her pony to walk forward, and Ankulaz fell in beside her. The rest of us followed, ranging behind and to either side with our dogs pacing beside us.

Even Grun was silent as we headed for the Urghul’s camp.


	60. Chapter 60

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clan Urghul has cast a menacing shadow for a long time. It's time to see the truth behind it.

My mouth was dry as Kahgli paced slowly towards the bright point of fire a mile or two ahead of us. Derfrulia and Ankulaz led us; just behind them were Ferrin and Mulgrum with Yanna between and just behind them; Merruli was directly behind her, flanked by Arkhanneh and Drekkani. Fíli was directly behind Merruli; I rode to his left, silently reminding him that I was his second; Barkhuzi was to Fíli’s right, and Klyn was to my left. Beyond them, on either side and behind, ranged Kahgli’s hunters and drovers, and beyond them, all of Kahgli’s wolfhounds.

The arrangement couldn’t have declared Kahgli’s apprehension with more clarity – Yanna, Fíli, and I, underage heirs all, were the center of our band, escorted by three rings of protective outliers. Yanna recognized the formation, and of course Fíli did – my brother’s grim look as he scanned around us, and his firm hand on his bow with its arrow nocked and ready, showed how aware he was of our position. Master Dwalin might’ve spent more time with me on hand-to-hand combat, making sure I knew how to gauge a potential fight to a nicety. But Uncle Thorin had spent more time with Fíli to school him in the intricacies of political intrigue, so my brother would sort out the implications of riding up on an unfriendly clan before we got into a fight. Still... I didn’t want to put either political or martial training into practice against my own kind. Mahal, please make Tobazel see reason, and listen to his son and Kahgli’s matriarch!

Our party inched across the grass with excruciating slowness. No one spoke, and the only sound was the soft jingle of harness. My view of the Urghul’s beacon fire was intermittent, given how many folk were between it and me, but when we’d covered a mile or so, the beacon faded and died. I didn’t see a mast aloft. As we grew closer, ten or twelve tents resolved out of the heat blur, then a few folk moving among the canvas. Perhaps two-dozen ponies browsed around the tents.

“Mahal, where’s the grass?” someone murmured, so of course I looked down. The ground under my pony’s feet was all but bare dirt. When I looked behind us, the wind had taken the dust we’d raised and sent it aloft like a pony’s tail. Only torn fragments of roots poked up here and there, mute testimony that grasses had grown here recently.

“It’s been eaten down to the dirt, roots and all,” I murmured, when Fíli looked a question at me.

We looked back towards the Urghul tents. Given all the dust that we’d raised, our approach was no secret, but nothing and no one around the canvas seemed to notice. Finally, when we were less than fifty yards away, perhaps nine or ten folk tumbled out of one tent or another. Two were dams; one looked worked near to death and held a bairn in her arms; the other was several years older with a pinched and sour expression. The rest, lads and sires, yelled and brandished bows and knives.

“I’ll go ahead,” Ankulaz said to Derfrulia. His voice was tight with apprehension; Valar, weren’t these folk his kin? Or did he fear because so many Kahgli were with him?

“We’ll follow,” Derfrulia replied. Her voice was low and even, wary but unafraid. “You have our help as you choose to ask for it.”

The Urghul heir drew his pony ahead of the rest of us, and held up his sword hand in greeting to the Urghuls. Derfrulia did likewise, so the rest of us followed suit. When we were only a few yards away, Ankulaz called to his clan.

“Well met, Numolomar!” Ankulaz called. “Where is my father? Where is Tobazel?”

The Urghuls murmured in surprise – maybe they hadn’t recognized their heir now that his pale hair was a short, fuzzy corona rather than long, beaded braids. A few called his name in disbelief, then again in dawning recognition. Was there a note of hope in their voices?

The Urghul patriarch shoved his way through his folk, looking just as blustery and belligerent as he had when I’d first met him, but little of my attention fell on him.

“Look at the camp,” I hissed to Fíli.

“What? Why?”

“Just look, Fíli.” My voice was urgent. “Look at it.”

Fíli tore his eyes from the glowering Tobazel to take in the state of the camp. Was that a curse he muttered?

It should be.

Urghul’s tents were nothing but torn and rotting canvas. The hearth in the center of the tents was a loose pile of scattered rocks that cradled only ashes – that had been the beacon fire, and it’d gone out because of neglect, not design. Surrounding it was a scatter of gnawed bones, bits of boiled gristle, and an overturned cooking pot. The ponies straggling around the tents were unkempt; some were thin, and some had patchy coats. The folk in the midst of this disarray were little better off – dirty, tired, and several with bandages wrapped around arms or legs. Even Tobazel had a bloody rag wrapped around his left hand.

Valar, what had happened?

Ankulaz dismounted at once and ran to his father, but before he could offer greeting, his father grabbed his arm and shook it.

“Did you make alliance?”

“Did I – Father, what’s happened here? Where is everyone? Where is Grimm? Drengi? Uzkul?”

“Did you make alliance!”

“No! I did not make alliance! Now tell me what has happened!”

The bairn squirmed out of his dam’s arms. He was barely of an age to toddle on his own, but he made a beeline for us, his dam in stumbling pursuit.

“Taad! Taad!”

“They’re not your Taad, Taalmaak.” The dam caught up to her son, and shot a terrified look at us as she cuddled him close and backed away. “Your Taad’s gone, I told you.”

The bairn buried his face in his dam’s shoulder and wailed. “But I’m hungry! Hungry!”

Oh, _dahaut_ , how was I supposed to swallow the lump in my throat? I made the mistake of looking at my brother, and his face was as stricken as mine must be. Tobazel, however, ignored the bairn’s desperation.

“If you didn’t make alliance, then why are you here?” Tobazel spat. He looked past Ankulaz to fix his glare on Derfrulia. “You! Come to steal what’s left, did you?”

Derfrulia didn’t acknowledge the gibe. I couldn’t see her face to fathom what she thought about so much ruin, but the faces around me were appalled. Kahgli wasn’t so wealthy that wind, weather, and wolves couldn’t inflict their worst upon us in an instant, which would leave our tents and hearth as ragged as Urghul’s. And no Dwarf was so stony that we wouldn’t feel a bairn’s despair like a knife in our hearts. I inched a stealthy hand back to my pack, and wormed out a fruit biscuit.

“Hold, Kíli,” Fíli whispered. “You have to hold.”

“I know. I will. But when we don’t have to, I’ll be ready.”

“Kahgli isn’t here to steal anything,” Ankulaz retorted sharply. “They’re here so that Urghul can pronounce judgment on the one who _has_ stolen from us. The one who’s at the heart of our ruin, and has been for years.”

“They’ve admitted that they killed their own, did they? That they stole our lands, our herds? Which ones of them was it?”

“It wasn’t Kahgli, father,” Ankulaz riposted sharply. “It was never Kahgli. It was Grun. He wanted you to acknowledge him as your son, and when you didn’t, he chose to do all he could to ruin everything we held dear. He killed Helglor to turn all the clans, not just Kahgli, against us. He killed Kazunki, too, because my cousin supported me. He tried to kill many more, me among them.”

Tobazel’s eyes blazed, and he took one step forward to backhand his good hand across Ankulaz’s face, staggering his son backwards from the power of the blow. “You liar! You fucking liar!”

Oh and oh and oh, all of Melkor’s fury was unleashed in that blow! Howls went up from both Kahgli and Urghul, all of them angry at Tobazel’s abuse of his heir. That was muddle enough, but Rukhsit made it worse – she broke from the line of wolfhounds, and raced towards Ankulaz. The howls turned fearful; the loudest came from me.

“Rukhsit! No, lass, no! They’ll shoot you! Rukhsit!” I howled, kicking my feet out of my stirrups, ready to fling myself out of my saddle.

Fíli grabbed my arm to keep me in place, hissing, “Kíli, hold! You have to hold!”

“How in the fucking hell can I?” I pleaded, tearing my arm from his grip.

Fili grabbed me again and shook me hard. “Because you have to!”

I was forced to watch a foolish wolfhound race to Ankulaz’s side, scattering all of the Urghul folk but Tobazel in panic. He was too ram-headed to move even when the dog leapt at him with her jaws wide. With a shout, Ankulaz grabbed the dog in full leap, managing to spin them both around, away from Tobazel, giving the patriarch the opportunity to wade in again and land another punishing backhand on his cheek. Ankulaz scrambled out of reach, still clutching Rukhsit to his chest so that the dog couldn’t snap at Tobazel.

“Stop!” Ankulaz shouted. “You don’t know what you’re doing! Hold!”

“I know damned well what I’m doing!” the patriarch snarled, charging after Ankulaz. The Urghul heir scrambled around and around despite the dog in his arms, keeping out of reach until his father stumbled to a stop. Tobazel trembled with barely contained fury, and his fists clenched and unclenched, over and over, as if he were close to flinging himself at Ankulaz again. He stabbed a dirty finger at his son. “You set one of their hellhounds on me, and I won’t hold my hand for that! I cast you out! You’re no son of mine! Get off my land!”

Oh, no, no, no – Mahal, I’d gotten Ankulaz cast out of his clan!

Me and my stupid pranking! Why hadn’t I remembered how superstitious Urghul was, how scared they were of the wolfhounds? Hadn’t Ankulaz’s dam taken the last of Urghul’s wolfhounds with her when she’d been cast out? Why hadn’t I realized that even the silly, playful Rukhsit would turn Urghul against Ankulaz? Of course Tobazel would see Rukhsit as an insult!

Was this why Derfrulia had let me meddle without sanction, in hopes that my bairn dog would incite Urghul to self-destruct, just as it had? Or did I do the horse maid a disservice?

I was such an idiot.

As if to reinforce my self-condemnation, Grun sent up a cackle. It raised a chill up my spine, because it was demented and victorious and malevolent. At the evil sound, Ankulaz turned towards us. Oh, Valar, his face was white with anger and outrage! I cringed, sure that he’d skewer me with that black, unblinking stare, blaming me for this calamity.

But no.

His eyes fell on Derfrulia, and he fought to keep his tone level as he addressed her.

“I would ask Kíli to call Rukhsit.”

“Kíli, see to Ankulaz’s wolfhound for now,” Derfrulia said calmly, though her pronouncement had Kahgli murmuring.

“Yes, Derfrulia,” I gulped as I slithered out of my saddle and ran to Ankulaz. My face was likely as white as his was, but he set Rukhsit on the ground, ready for me to lead her away –

“You!” Tobazel snarled, pointing at me. “Durin’s meddling archer! You weren’t content to shoot at me and pretend to forget any insult – you corrupted my son, too! I should strike your head off where you stand!”

Tobazel drew his knife in a sweep and charged at me. Before he’d taken two steps, Mhornar, Alabrin, Rukhsit, and the other bairns – oh, Valar, Rinnala and another four dogs, too – all rushed forward. All of the Urghul folk but Tobazel scattered again in the face of so many angry wolfhounds.

“Mhornar! Hold!” I shrieked, whirling to hold my hands out wide to the dogs. “Alabrin! Rinnala! Rukhsit! All of you! Hold!”

I grabbed for as many furry bodies as I could reach, drawing them to me. Where was Tobazel? Did he blunder after me?

He didn’t. Ankulaz had shoved his father back, away from the dogs and me, and the patriarch’s knife was on the ground. Ankulaz hadn’t drawn a weapon, but Master Dwalin would have approved of his fighter’s crouch, compact and solid, balanced on his toes, ready for anything.

“You hold, too, before you lose what little good will is left to you!” Ankulaz snapped at his father. He craned his head around, looking for the horse maid. “I would ask Kahgli to release the viper to me.”

“Bar, Torak, hand Naggrundaz over to Ankulaz,” Derfrulia directed Grun’s two guards. Her voice was crisp, calm, and unperturbed, as if she watched a performance, which is more than I could say. I forced myself calm, before Mhornar decided my upset was reason enough to brandish her teeth at Tobazel. To distract her and the other dogs, I rubbed and whispered, but out of the corner of my eye I watched Grun’s guards. They untied the Urghul second from his saddle and lifted him to the ground, but left him bound and chained as they hustled him to Ankulaz. The Urghul heir took the chains in hand, and flung the miscreant at Tobazel’s feet.

“There is the heir you deserve,” Ankulaz growled, as Grun struggled to his knees. “Kin slayer, ruination, viper. Take him in my place and welcome! But know exactly what you leave your legacy to, father. Hear it!”

In terse, stark words, Ankulaz gave his father the story of Grun’s thirty years of manipulation, deception, and murder. The telling took far less time than it had during Kahgli’s council of a month ago, which intensified its savagery and malice. With each sentence, Tobazel turned alternately bright red, then ashen white. If that weren’t horrible enough, Grun met the tale with chuckling satisfaction, nodding as he savored every word.

“So have your proper heir, father!” Ankulaz finished with a growl. “I am Urghul no longer, and not just because of Grun’s spite. You forced Kahgli to take me as fosterer, and Kazunki, and both of us gained from it more than Kahgli did. My cousin was respected for his honesty and skill, and Kahgli honored him at his death when they had every reason not to. Kahgli taught me all of their skills on the grass without stint when they had every reason not to. Durin’s heirs are young and impetuous, but they, especially Kíli, offered consideration when they had every reason not to. You are nothing compared to Kahgli and Durin – they are generous, and you are greedy and grasping like an Orc! What has it gotten you? Nothing! Your land, your ponies, your dogs, your folk – the harder you lusted after them, the faster they slipped through your fingers like water. I leave you to it. Make what you will of what’s left without me!”

Ankulaz turned on his heel and marched himself to Derfrulia. He offered his best bow, low and humble.

“I would be honored to serve Kahgli as a contract herder for the rest of the season.”

“Accepted, and welcome,” Derfrulia replied without hesitation.

The rumble from Kahgli was approving. The one from Urghul, however, was shocked, and the loudest cry of outrage came from Tobazel.

“I see it now – you intended to steal my son from me all along!” the patriarch yelled, advancing on Derfrulia and Ankulaz.

“Don’t be a fool, Tobazel. You cast Ankulaz not, not me,” Derfrulia riposted coolly, looking down at the patriarch as she pointed to Grun. “There is the heir who remains to you. Kahgli lost good folk at his hands, and if your former son wants to offer his considerable skills to me, I welcome him gladly. May Naggrundaz, the Ruinous one, please you more than Ankulaz.”

Tobazel gaped at us, even me huddling a lot of wolfhounds close. Maybe this was the first time his fists and his shouts hadn’t cowed anyone who opposed him, because he looked stunned, incredulous. I expected him to shout again, pepper us with curses and imprecations, but as he drew breath to do so, the older dam’s sour expression melted into gleeful malice.

“At last,” the dam chuckled. The sound was as malicious and cruel as if Grun had uttered it – of course it was; she was Arberch, Grun’s mother. She was as thin as Cyth, but that was her only resemblance to the Kahgli elder. Where Cyth was always well clad in clean, neatly mended, and lovingly embellished clothing, Arberch’s tunic, once fine and expensive, was stained, raggedly hemmed, and brown with ground-in dirt. Where Cyth’s grey hair was dressed in neat braids wound atop her head, Arberch’s hair was as matted as Tobazel’s, and it was impossible to know what color it was. Her earrings were tarnished and missing bits, and her boots were ill mended. Her air was of neglect rather than hardship, though given the state of the camp, maybe I judged her too harshly.

Despite Arberch’s beleaguered appearance, when Tobazel’s glare fixed on her, she didn’t cower or skitter off. No, the bold dam put her arms akimbo and drew herself up in triumph.

“What are you left with now, Tobazel?” Arberch taunted. “Ankulaz is gone, and willingly. What maid has been willing to make alliance with you for seventy years? I was the last one, wasn’t I? And there’s my son – your son. Take him as heir, or Urghul dies with you.”

Tobazel’s eyes bugged out, and the veins stood out at his temples like ropes. He tore his eyes from her, and looked down at Grun.

“You admit to what Kahgli said of you, viper?” he demanded.

Grun savored the moment, then poked his split tongue at his father in mockery. “I exercised my right. You stole everything from me, so I stole everything from you. As does the father, so does the son. Do you savor what I’ve made of all you’ve given me? Have I earned your blessing?”

A long, long moment slid past in silence.

“Aye, I’ll grant you a fit blessing,” Tobazel muttered, and then skewered Arberch with a predatory stare. “And you just as fit a recognition.”

His tone was too menacing, too full of fury, to convince anyone that he meant well, but no one raised a hand when he seized Grun by the ring encircling his neck and dragged him, yelping and choking, out past the tents. Arberch followed, adding shrill complaints to her son’s shrieks, tugging at Tobazel’s arm, but neither son nor dam slowed Tobazel’s relentless steps. No good would come of this –

Some thirty yards from his poor camp, Tobazel drew a second blade from his belt, and ripped it across Grun’s throat.

Before Arberch could draw breath to scream, Tobazel dropped Grun’s spasming body. He grabbed the dam by her matted hair, stabbed his blade up under her chin and straight into her brain, and threw her body down atop her son’s.

Without a look back at anyone, he marched away, straight for the ice bay.

Clan Urghul was no more.

A collective sigh went up from Kahgli as Tobazel paced out of sight. His savagery shocked us only for a moment, and then it seemed inevitable. I expected the Urghul folk to set up a lamentation, but there was none. After a moment, that seemed inevitable, too. Instead, they looked amongst themselves as if not knowing what to do.

Derfrulia, however, was not so adrift. She slid off her pony, and offered Ankulaz a slight bow.

“Kahgli offers its aid to all folk. We would be honored to do so now.”

Ankulaz swallowed hard, but returned Derfrulia’s bow. “I am grateful.”

Derfrulia swept all of us with her gaze. “All right, Kahgli. Let’s get to work.”


	61. Chapter 61

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kahgli shows its character, and offers compassion to folk who sorely need it.

As soon as Derfrulia gave the word, I scrambled off my pony and rushed after Kíli. My brother was so predictable – with a kind but firm word, he had all of the wolfhounds that had gravitated towards him sit, then he ran towards the dam and her bairn, already fumbling his raisin biscuit out of his pocket.

“For your bairn, maid?” he called, holding the biscuit out to the little one. The dam was weak and frightened, and to be confronted by a tall, strange, earnest, dog-mongering lad terrified her. Her bairn, however, was too hungry to be particular about who offered a treat. The mite grabbed for Kíli’s offering with both hands, yanking it towards his mouth.

“Oh – wait, wait, wait, you’ll choke, you silly lad!” Kíli protested, breaking off a smaller bit. “Here, this isn’t such a big mouthful for such a small pebble. His name’s Taalmaak, yah?”

The dam’s stare was wide and uncomprehending, sure that her son’s eagerness would anger Kíli – or maybe me. As soon as I reached her side, her eyes rolled up in her head and she crumpled. I grabbed one arm and Kíli grabbed the other, and we laid her on the ground gently, without trouble to her bairn. The little one cried for the piece of biscuit, so Kíli folded down beside his dam to bundle the mite into his lap. The bairn sat with him without fuss, content to stuff his mouth full.

Since Kíli had seen to the hungry bairn, I should see to his dam... but I didn’t know what do to. I hoped she’d just been scared. I saw no obvious wound, but when Arkhanneh passed by, I beckoned to her for help.

“She fainted, maybe?” I asked. “Or maybe she’s taken hurt? She seemed weak when she ran after her bairn.”

“I thought so, too,” Kíli’s mentor said, hunkering down beside us. “Let me see what’s what before I call Maaggulmuli.”

“A lot of the Urghuls had bandaged wounds,” I said. “Even Tobazel. Something dire happened – maybe wolves?”

One of the Urghuls ventured near – a sire of some age, with a straggly grey beard and thinning brown braids. His threadbare tunic and trousers were of good cloth, if old, but both were ripped and bloodstained, and a bloodstained bandage circled his forearm. His eyes were sunken into his face – maybe hunger, maybe exhaustion – and he moved as if every joint ached.

“Aye, wolves, four days ago,” he offered softly. “Up north by the ice bay, some thirty miles. Ye know Melkor sits on His ice throne in the center of the bay, yah? 'T is a perilous place, but the grass nearest to our spring was gone. Antelope, too. Tobazel said Melkor wouldn’t care if we strayed north just long enough for our ponies to snatch a mouthful or two, maybe find a few antelope. But he was wrong. The Dark One didn’t take kindly to us, so He sent his wolves to drive our stock into the bay. Drowned a lot, scattered the rest. Killed three of our folk, too, including wee Taalmaak’s sire. Wounded almost all of the rest of us.” The sire held up his bandaged arm as evidence. “We fled back here to the spring, hoping Melkor wasn’t so angry as to send His wolves to finish us off.”

The old sire spoke as if Melkor really did sit on an ice throne in the center of Forochel and actively direct the wolves, rather than lie imprisoned in the Timeless Void to await the ending of the world. Urghul was truly a superstitious clan...

Eh, if I were honest, I’d always wondered how Master Balin could be so sure of the tale of Melkor’s fate. As I’d seen neither a Timeless Void nor an ice throne in the center of Forochel... maybe Urghul was no more or less superstitious than Durin; we just had different tales.

“This can’t be all of you,” I asked, returning my attention to the ragged sire. “Where are the rest of your herders?”

He waved vaguely past the poor camp. “Trying to round up what’s left of our stock; trying to hunt a little meat. The wolves scattered more than our ponies.”

“Victuals have been short for a while, yah?” Arkhanneh murmured, giving the old sire a sympathetic look.

“The wolves are fierce this year. We do the best we can,” he muttered, but it was shame, not resentment that colored his tone. Likely he expected Arkhanneh to sneer at him, or even worse, offer pity. But Kíli’s mentor acknowledged only with a short, commiserating grunt.

“Aye, wolves are fierce this year all over.” Arkhanneh nodded at Taalmaak’s dam still lying so still beside me. “She was a good mother, shorting herself for her bairn.”

“She is,” the sire swallowed. “Vazra. A sweet lass, no matter what. Kind to an old Dwarf, too, as well as her bairn. Shorting herself... that’s hard to watch. Make sure you treat her well.”

“Course we will,” Arkhanneh assured him. “Fíli and Kíli are gentle lads, and they’ll see that Vazra and her bairn come to no harm while you and I get Maaggulmuli for them.” Arkhanneh got to her feet, and beckoned to the Urghul sire. “Maaggulmuli’s a healer, so while you tell him about Vazra, he’ll ease your arm. And he’ll like to know about the spring.”

Arkhanneh led the sire off, making me smile in admiration. If she’d made a fuss about the sire’s bitten arm, he would’ve bridled at the offer of charity. But the dam had offered consideration instead, which meant that he’d have his wound attended to without resentment to embitter her kindness.

“I’m sorry,” Kíli whispered, interrupting my reflection of a steppe dam’s adroitness.

“What?” I blinked, turning my gaze back to my brother as he cradled the bairn in his lap.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

Kíli wouldn’t meet my eyes. “For being an idiot. I didn’t think, Fíli – I thought that if Rukhsit took to Ankulaz, it’d help, but it didn’t, because it got him cast out of his clan. I didn’t think about Urghul being afraid of the wolfhounds, either, or that Tobazel might resent Kahgli even more because he thought we’d stolen his son. I was fucking stupid.”

I blinked again. “Um. When you put it that way... yah, I guess it was idiotic. But I didn’t think of the implications, either, and I should have, so I’m an idiot, too.”

“It’s not your fault,” Kíli hastened to say, though his expression looked slightly less miserable. “It was my idea. But... eh, that’s not the only thing I was stupid about.”

“What else?” I questioned, frowning.

Kíli’s eyes slid to one side, then another before he leaned towards me. “Because... I thought... what if the only reason Derfrulia let me push Rukhsit at Ankulaz is because she hoped I’d get them to bond, and that would piss off Tobazel to do just what he did? Cast out Ankulaz, I mean, not the, um, other part. ”

“She didn’t do it for that reason, Kíl, I’m sure of it,” I shook my head firmly. “She’s too honorable to be that underhanded.”

“Of course she is,” Kíli agreed, and brought his eyes up to meet mine. “But what if she’d been someone else, someone who wasn’t so noble? My messing about with a dog just helped to end an entire clan!”

I winced at the horror in Kíli’s whisper. Yah, today had brought home the lesson Master Balin and Uncle had repeatedly explained to me, how actions ripple far beyond the doer. That’s why both of my tutors had insisted that I learn chess, which was pure, bloodless instruction in such things. Kíli had never liked the game because it seemed so abstract; he didn’t yet understand that an innocent move early in the game could win or lose the contest later on.

He certainly understood the lesson now.

“I don’t think anything you did influenced what Tobazel did, Kíl,” I said after some reflection. “Maybe Derfrulia let you try because she wanted the same things you did – to ease relations between Kahgli and Urghul. Neither of you intended to destroy Urghul, but given Tobazel, maybe that was bound to happen no matter what anyone did. At worst, maybe you and Rukhsit hastened the end, but that’s all. Still... now you know why Uncle insists that we learn chess. It’s what you just learned – small things lead to bigger things, but without the ramifications.”

“Yah, I see that now.” Kíli took a deep breath, and concentrated on bouncing the bairn on his knee. “Thank you for saying that. I won’t be so thoughtless again.”

“Yes, you will,” I commiserated, “and so will I. Because it’s easy to know we should’ve stepped right or left when we look backwards. It’s not easy to know that when we look forwards. Just consider everything as best you can, and hope that what follows works out.”

“Thank you, Fíli,” Kíli murmured, as Arkhanneh and the sire came towards us with Maaggulmuli in tow. “Um, I think the dam’s rousing?”

A brief twitch of one hand revealed that yes, Taalmaak’s dam was recovering her senses. I took her hand to reassure her, but Valar, it was cold! Dwarves are quite warm-blooded by nature, so Vazra must have shorted her rations for some time to grow so chilled. Kíli and I slid back so that the Kahgli medic had room to see to our charges.

“Grumko and I will see to Taalmaak while Maaggulmuli tends Vazra,” Arkhanneh said, holding her arms out for the bairn, whom Kíli handed over with the remains of his raisin biscuit. “Derfrulia asks if you and your dogs would please join Ferrin to hunt the makings of a good pot of stew.”

“Of course,” we both agreed, and left the trio with the rousing Vazra. We called to our dogs, still sitting where Kíli had left them, and found Derfrulia’s eldest son. It didn’t take much thought to understand why we were to join the hunters – the Urghuls weren’t easy around the dogs, so better that we take most of them out of sight. Before we rode off, I was glad to see Kahgli setting up a temporary kitchen fire away from the littered Urghul ground, and tending to injured folk.

It was no surprise that Ferrin headed our party to the south, not the north. No one wanted to see Tobazel reach his end, no matter how much he deserved it.

Despite how tired everyone was from riding through the night, we put a good face on it, and rode briskly with our dogs trotting beside us. We had to travel some distance to find any antelope, and those we did find were skittish and easily startled. They were used to being hunted, then, which said something about the Urghuls depleting their source of food as well as the grass. Had they overused the near environs out of sloth, or desperation? That story was yet to be told. Whatever the cause, I was grateful to have so many wolfhounds with us. We weren’t able to use our usual circle of hunters to bring the antelope within range of our bows, so we had to send the dogs out to chase down the small creatures at full speed. Kíli’s bairn dogs were fine at pursuit, but unskilled at the actual takedown, but they managed to distract their prey well enough for Rinnala, Mhornar, Alabrin, and the other veteran dogs to hold them until one of us dispatched them with an arrow or knife. Several of them improved as the hunt went on, proving that they were growing up, and paying close attention to their elders.

Kíli and I needed to do a lot more of both, not just Kíli’s bairn dogs.

When two-dozen dressed antelope carcasses hung on our saddles, we turned towards... what? The grass was so featureless that without the sun and the wind, we wouldn’t have had any idea of which way to ride. But as we progressed, the Kahgli’s journey mast with its fluttering banners appeared, standing straight and tall to guide us safely back. Ferrin had us dismount to gather all the antelope chips we could to supplement the fire we smelled on the wind. Given that the grass had thickened the farther we’d ridden away from the Urghul camp, we dragged a full canvas load of fuel behind us by the time we returned to our folk.

We returned to the welcome sight of a pair of Kahgli tents a little distance from the Urghul’s threadbare canvas. We had to pass the remains of Grun and Arberch, still lying where they’d fallen, but no one dwelled on them. A happier sight lay beyond, where folk bustled about. A few more Urghuls had appeared – likely some of the folk who’d been out trying to collect their scattered stock. Both Ankulaz, Derfrulia, and Maltudd sat in a gathering of the Urghuls, and I took it as a good sign that the Urghuls showed no sign of anger. If anything, they seemed relieved that something of their poor situation had changed. Their faces lit up when our hunting party laid our catch near the cooking fire, and eager hands began to turn the raw meat into nourishing stew and grilled bits for folk, and rations for our dogs. Yah, there was Arkhanneh sitting with Grumko, Vazra, and Taalmaak a little distance from the fire; all three of the Urghuls looked cleaner and neater, and the sire and dam had bowls of porridge in their laps. Taalmaak had a messy face, but it was a happy messy face, and his dam cuddled him close with a relieved smile.

While our hunting party saw to our ponies, Merruli passed the word that we were to see to our dogs, then ourselves, then settle under the canvas for a much-needed sleep. Kíli and I rewarded our stalwart companions for their faithful attendance with their rations, then eagerly got our bits of grilled meat, bowls of stew and porridge, and tea. There were even hot biscuits and _ceigeach_ _ìm_.

The spring that Grumko had alluded to was just a small seep in the ground, but it was good water, and I gladly indulged in a welcome scrub of face and hands before I rested. Klyn waved to us from the far Kahgli tent, so we hastened over to join him and Barkhuzi and a lot of the dogs.

“The Urghuls aren’t easy with them,” Klyn said lowly, as Kíli went off to get our personal things from the pile of gear that the hunting party had made when we’d untacked our ponies. “Our dogs, I mean. Ankulaz has Rukhsit with him, and the older sires still remember their dogs from long ago, so they’re helping to ease the younger ones. But for now, we’re keeping them at a distance.”

I scanned the crowded space under our canvas. The only dogs not resting underneath with their Dwarves were those out patrolling the grass against wolves. How Maamr would look askance at Kíli and me when we cleared a little space with our friends among the abundance of dogs, unrolled our blankets, and lay down without regard to anything else!

“I’ll be glad to help after a good sleep,” Kíli yawned cavernously as he lay down on his narrow strip of blanket. “No, Makkwyr, you can’t lick my face. I’m knackered and so are you, so settle so we can all sleep.”

I lay down back to back with my brother, and managed to give Rinnala’s soft ear a caress before I shut my eyes. In a pair of breaths, the tent faded from sight.

 

* * *

 

I woke much refreshed in mid afternoon. Many of the hunters and their dogs still lay sleeping around me; Kíli was still at my back, dead to the world, and Klyn and Barkhuzi were just beyond, just as inert. Rinnala’s longsuffering look told me that she wasn’t ready to rise yet, either. But curiosity about the Urghuls had the best of me, and wouldn’t let me go back to sleep. When I eased to my feet to pick my way out of the sprawl of sleeping dogs and Dwarves, Rinnala heaved a sigh and followed, if without enthusiasm. I grinned to see her so grumpy, but I knew how to put her in better spirits. I found the necessary, then sat us down in the shadow of the canvas, and pulled out her brush. Just a few strokes through her tangled fur had her smiling again. Her dusty coat took on its usual gloss, and her paws were clean and burr-free, ready to bear her through another day. After a splash at the spring, we were ready for breakfast – or perhaps this was supper, given that sundown was only a few hours away. Whichever meal it was, Rinnala downed it heartily, then was very willing to attend me as I fetched mine.

I angled towards Drekkani when I had my slab of antelope ribs and bowl of stew. My mentor greeted me with a nod as I sat down.

“So what’s the plan for the day?” I asked, before stuffing a big spoonful of stew in my mouth.

“Up and moving, soon enough. No grass for the ponies left here.” Drekkani nodded at the two bodies outside the camp. “No one wants to touch either of those, either, and no one wants to tangle with the wolves that do. So we’ll put some distance between us and them as soon as everyone’s astir. Won’t be long.”

“Now that I see Urghul... they’re in a sad state,” I ventured.

Drekkani grimaced. “Yah, worst I’ve seen. Tobazel didn’t do his folk any good when he forced Kahgli to take Ankulaz and Kazunki, I’m thinking. From what I hear, maybe those two were the ones who saw things done, maybe buffered Tobazel from everyone else. Without them, everything went off on the wind. The great fool wouldn’t listen to reason about moving to better grass, or closer to good water. I hear some of the hardier ones struck out on their own to move closer to the Lhûn, and after that, nothing got done here. Sounds like Tobazel would rather starve here and wait for Ankulaz, rather than admit that anyone else made more sense.”

“He expected Ankulaz to make alliance, then,” I guessed. When Drekkani touched his forefinger to his nose, I winced. “Valar. It’s one thing to hold with a stupid idea, but another to make the folk who depend on you suffer because of it.”

Drekkani nodded. “Aye, ’t is a lesson well worth remembering, young Fíli. Don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t,” I promised firmly. I meant it – I’d never see Erebor, not so long as the firedrake lived. But I might rule Thorin’s Halls in Uncle’s stead one day, and better I learn from Urghul’s folly today than make Durin’s folk suffer tomorrow.

There was little for Drekkani and me to do while Derfrulia continued to speak with the Urghuls, other than tend our ponies and dogs. So tend we did. Still, in and around brushing coats and checking tack, I kept an eye on the horse maid. All of her sons accompanied her as she and Ankulaz listened to the ragged folk. Occasionally Derfrulia herself would talk, and while I couldn’t hear her, I could see her manner, and it was calm, measured, fully intent on all she heard. The discussion seemed to go around again each time another of the scattered Urghuls returned from the grass. Their collection of ponies grew from some two dozen to perhaps five dozen, but all of them were in rough shape because of the poor fare. I would’ve been glad to help see to them as well as ours, but Kíli’s example of meddling with the dogs kept me away. This clan had so little that even the offer of grooming help might be seen as covetous, looking to steal what little remained to them. As the ponies weren’t mine, and they weren’t in active distress, I left them be.

Eventually Kíli appeared with his flight of dogs. I helped him feed and groom the lot, and so did the yawning Klyn and Barkhuzi when they appeared. We kept the dogs well away from the discussion to keep the Urghul folk at ease, so I still didn’t overhear anything of what was discussed. So this time I studied the Urghuls. Barely thirty of them remained. Of those, most were aged sires, if hale enough. Taalmaak was the only bairn; there were but two or three lads younger than Kíli, and no maids. Of the three dams, Vazra was the only young one. The two old ones were near silent, swathed in nondescript grey and brown clothing, and tiptoed about as if they expected someone to strike them. Yes, these folk were free of Tobazel, and yes, they were beholden to no one... but their lands were still poor, and there were too few of them to protect their ponies or care for themselves.

Despite Kíli’s lesson about meddling, I wondered what I’d do if I were in Derfrulia’s place. Would I provide them a good meal or two, tend their wounds, and patch their canvas, only to wish them well in a day or two and ride back to my lands, leaving them to... what?

Maybe Derfrulia didn’t face the dilemma that I imagined. Urghul had been Kahgli’s enemy for so long that it was surely hard for her to think kindly of them. I didn’t think kindly of the bullies who’d made Kíli miserable, and maybe I never would. Derfrulia had worse than bullying to consider – Grun had murdered two of Kahgli’s folk, including its heir, and wounded several more. Several of Kahgli’s precious wolfhounds had died or been wounded at Grun’s hands, too. But Grun was dead now, and so was the dam who’d twisted him so, and his sire would shortly join them. By Grun’s own admission, he’d worked alone on his ruinous campaign. So would Derfrulia be benevolent, or would the rest of Urghul suffer for Grun’s crimes?

Valar, no wonder Uncle Thorin and Maamr looked grim some days. Deciding what was right and fair was no easy task, even for a rich clan such as Kahgli. It was even harder for a poor clan, as Durin was.

I chewed on my thoughts for some time, distracting myself as best I could by tending the dogs with Kíli, Klyn, and Barkhuzi. I got myself into such a knot that I didn’t know what to think when both of the young Urghul lads ventured close, whispering and pointing. Kili and I stayed away from them, only watching when Barkhuzi beckoned the lads closer with a friendly wave. Both lads seemed fascinated to see Neyshath and Kulazhath up close. Or maybe they needled each other, as lads will do, daring each other to touch one of the wicked hellhounds they’d heard so much about. Kíli snorted quietly when I wondered that aloud, and he had on his wary face, as if he weren’t sure that these two lads were any better than the bullies I’d recalled earlier. Mhornar seemed of the same undecided mind, as she watched the two lads closely, especially when they ventured close to one of Kíli’s bairns. But as Mhornar wasn’t growling, only watchful, I followed suit. Depending on what Derfrulia decided, these lads might never see a wolfhound or us again. And if they did, then we’d sort ourselves out however she told us to.

When but two hours lacked until sundown, Derfrulia called us to gather around the Kahgli journey mast. Ankulaz stood with Ferrin, Maltudd, and Yanna beside the horse maid. The Urghuls gathered, too, though they ranged together around Ankulaz, rather than mingling with our folk. I stayed with Kíli and Klyn with most of the dogs at the far side of the gathering; Barkhuzi and Merruli were farther out, riding among the rest of our ponies to keep an eye on them.

“We have decided,” Derfrulia began in her usual no-nonsense way. “Ankulaz will speak first of his folk.”

The onetime clan heir scanned us all, Kahgli and Urghul both, then held up his hands. “Tobazel and his true heir, Naggrundaz, are dead. Their evil caused great harm to many, and so it is fit that their demise also ends Clan Urghul. It is no more.”

A ripple of satisfaction and approval ran through Kahgli. The murmur from the one-time Urghuls might signal acceptance, but the looks they exchanged were uncertain and apprehensive.

“The name of Urghul is dead, but my folk still live. There are few of us, and while all who went out to collect our scattered ponies have returned, we are missing several who have fled looking for a new life. Now all of us look for a new life with them. So those of us who remain want to find our missing folk, so that we aren’t further fragmented.”

That met with nods of agreement from Urghul, and understanding from Kahgli. When the low whisper of voices died, Ankulaz continued.

“I have advised Derfrulia that we must not linger here. There is no grass, and there are too many wolves. So all folk here have good reason to leave. Derfrulia will speak more of this, of what we must do to protect all of our folk.”

Derfrulia took up the narrative. “Ankulaz is wise to tell us that this land cannot feed ponies, dogs, or folk. So all of us will ride south tonight, for the Lhûn. There we will find grass and water and game to sustain us. We also will scout for the rest of Ankulaz’s folk, so that they may rejoin them and discuss what they want to do. As we travel, then, Kahgli will extend our protection to Ankulaz’s folk so that they make the journey safely. I ask my folk to also extend their courtesy to Ankulaz’s folk as they would to Kahgli.”

Ankulaz offered a bow of appreciation. “I thank thee, Derfrulia. Likewise, I ask my folk to meet Kahgli’s courtesy with our own. A better life begins for us.”

How strange it was to hear Ankulaz speak thus! He’d been such an enigma, always holding back, talkative only rarely. Yet here he was, speaking to what was left of his clan, with more emotion in his tone than I’d heard before. His pale hair wafted on the breeze, bare of clan bead and any sign of rank, but as he’d spoken, his gaze had been for his remaining folk, promising them that life would in fact improve from this point on. I hoped it would, beyond the temporary encouragement of a good meal and a medic’s care. His folk seemed encouraged, too, for they gazed back with more hope than they’d shown since our arrival, and less fear.

“Ferrin will aid Ankulaz to help his folk pack their belongings,” Derfrulia directed, as folk began to sort themselves out. “Merruli will help with the ponies that Ankulaz’s folk choose to bring with them. Maltudd and Yanna will oversee loading the pack ponies. Barkhuzi, Klyn, Fíli, and Kíli will see to the wolfhounds. The rest of you, please lend your hands as you are asked. Come, let us all make haste while the sun’s light is still with us. We want to be well on our way by nightfall.”

Everyone scattered to turn Derfrulia’s direction into action. Kahgli had very little to pack, just the canvas of our tents and a few cooking pots, so most of the effort was to help Ankulaz’s folk to gather their things. It was sad to see so little go into packs and baggage, and while most of the items had been good quality at one time, now everything was old and worn. When everything was neatly packed and loaded aback a pony, all that remained of the Urghul camp was a scant litter of canvas bits, a broken rope or two, and the gnawed bones we’d seen when we first arrived. Kíli, our two friends, and I were finally released from our watch over the wolfhounds, and we joined the rest of the hunters and herders around the caravan, which now included Urghul’s ponies as well as our baggage beasts. Derfrulia bade the journey mast come down and stowed, then turned her face towards the southwest, towards the Lhûn and Kahgli lands just beyond.

Home.

Before we had taken more than a dozen steps, I turned in my saddle to look back at the abandoned Urghul camp. Kíli had already done the same thing, so his grim expression prepared me for what I was about to see.

A pair of wolves already circled the bodies of Arberch and Grun.

It was a fit sendoff.

We called to our dogs, and rode after Derfrulia without another look back.


	62. Chapter 62

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Urghul is no more, but where does that leave the folk who survived? Kahgli is no more sure of that than Urghul is, and the unease is palpable.
> 
> Maybe a few wolfhounds can help.

What a relief it was to ride away from the saddest home I could’ve imagined – nothing but tatters and castoffs, want and hopelessness. Not even the wolves bothered to nose what scattered bits remained, but went right for the bodies of Grun and his mother, as if they were as famished as poor Taalmaad before I’d given him the raisin biscuit. The caravan picked up its pace to keep the wolves from bothering with us after they feasted. In a few moments, the sight and sound of the massing wolves faded, and the grass was empty around us again.

Our pace stayed fast for an hour or so, mostly because of the wolves behind us. But after that, we slowed to our usual ground-eating trot. We wouldn’t reach the Lhûn River by morn, but we’d be close. The river meant more than drinking and bathing water – it also meant home, because Kahgli grass grew on the far bank. I couldn’t speak for the one-time Urghuls, but all of Kahgli wanted to be back to our lives, free of Grun and his years of poison.

All was not entirely carefree, however. Though neither Kahgli nor Urghul refugees spoke of it, the arrangement of our caravan made it clear. Our line of pack ponies formed the center, but only a third of them bore our baggage – the rest carried the most seriously wounded refugees. Vazra and Taalmaad were also borne along, and the two sad dams. Nine of the refugees led strings of five or six ponies; they trotted to either side of our caravan line. The interesting part was the placement of Kahgli’s extremes – its elders, and its young. Derfrulia and Ferrin led us, with Ankulaz beside them. Mulgrum, Merruli, Yanna, Arkhanneh, and Drekkani brought up the rear, as if they watched over our progress. Our hunters, herders, and dogs – Fíli, Barkhuzi, Klyn, and I included – ranged in a circle around the rest.

Had Derfrulia placed Yanna, Fíli, Barkhuzi, Klyn, and me apart from the refugees for a reason? The dogs, too? Maybe our youth and inexperience guided her choices, or maybe she wanted to protect heirs and hounds while she’d sorted out how trustworthy the refugees were. In either case, such consideration wouldn’t last once we were back to our own tents, so better to take advantage of the respite now. When we stopped after dawn, I fed my dogs, made sure that Fíli, my friends, and I were as well fed, and then laid down to sleep without demur.

Up we were again before sunset. After a quick bite we were off, still aiming for the Lhûn River. We struck it before dawn, but waited until the sun was up before we swam across. Of course all of Kahgli breathed easier to be back on our grass, but the refugees seemed just as eager. The southern side of the river was grassier and something of a barrier to the wolves, so that likely accounted for their relief. Tents went up quickly, and hunters rode out, Fíli and I among them, to collect enough meat for a hearty supper - or breakfast, given that the sun was just up. Riders went out in both directions of the river as well, looking for the refugees’ splinter group. Derfrulia made sure that a pair of Urghul refugees went with each group of riders, to persuade any folk they found as to the truth of our tale about Tobazel’s demise.

I’d learned my lesson about messing about in other folks’ politics, so I stayed intent on my hunting, then on preparing the meat once we got back to our temporary camp. I kept the dogs off to the side, and myself with them. I couldn’t tell if the Urghuls stared at me because I was with the dogs, and were really more intent on our four-footed companions, or if my odd appearance had drawn their eyes. As far as Urghul knew, Fili and I were Kahgli, and Kahgli allowed no bullying, so I didn’t expect any trouble to come of their regard. But I still kept my eyes and ears open to the ebb and flow of conversation, and didn’t call attention to myself.

As vast as the steppe was, I was surprised when the riders we sent south along the river returned with ten Urghuls in tow. They were better fed than the ones we escorted, but in not much better straits. There was so much stir among the reunited folk that Kahgli didn’t settle to sleep as we usually would. Instead, we saw to our ponies and dogs while Ankulaz and the rest of the refugees told the splinter group what had happened to Tobazel and Arberch, and then what Grun’s return had revealed. All told, there were perhaps thirty-five Urghuls. As there were only twenty-seven Kahglis, I couldn’t suppress my apprehension, and kept scanning the refugees for signs of... something.

“Why do you keep darting looks at them?” Klyn hissed, as we fed the dogs. “Do you think they’ll attack us?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “There are more of them and fewer of us, but we have the wolfhounds with us, and we’re better armed, and most of them are wounded and tired and hungry. I suppose I don’t know what’s about to happen.”

“Ankulaz has stayed among them, keeping them calm,” Fíli walked over to join us. “They’re no more easy than we are, I think. I hear them mutter about all the evil Grun’s brought down on them, and whether Kahgli’s going to attack them in retaliation.”

“So they make us nervous, and we make them nervous, and around we go again,” I murmured. “I wonder what Derfrulia will do?”

Klyn shook his head. “Maaggulmuli’s moved among them, tending their wounds, and Merruli and Barkhuzi have seen to their ponies, and we’ve fed them better than they’ve seen in some time, so I don’t know what else we can do to show them we mean no harm.”

A flash of inspiration struck me dumb.

_Of course!_

Mhornar took the rare initiative to poke me with her nose, because it was her chunk of meat that I held over her head, and she was hungry.

“Oh, Valar,” I whispered, drawing both Klyn and Fíli to stare at me. “Of course.”

“Of course what?” Klyn repeated, his brow wrinkling.

“Of course I know how to show the refugees that we mean no harm!” I whispered excitedly. “It’s obvious!”

“What’s obvious?” Fíli gave me a skeptical stare. “Whatever it is, it’s not obvious to me or Klyn.”

I was about to blurt it out, but after my meddling with Rukhsit, I clamped my mouth shut to think long and hard, so long and hard that both my brother and my friend poked me harder than Mhornar did. Belatedly, I offered Mhornar’s meat to her.

“I’m sorry, Mhornar,” I apologized, then looked at Fíli. “You told me to think about things, Fíli, so I have, and I still think it’s a good idea. But you’d better hear it and tell me what you think. You, too, Klyn.”

At any other time, Fíli might’ve snorted and given me an impatient cuff, but after my admonition about thinking things through, he, too, forced himself to patience.

“Good point, Kíl. So tell us.”

“All right,” I whispered, as my friend and brother leaned near. “Klyn, you were once Urghul, but now you’re Kahgli, yah? Not only that, you’re mate to Derfrulia’s grandson. So you’re the perfect example that Kahgli means no harm to Urghul’s refugees! You can’t be the only Dwarf who came from another clan and now calls Kahgli home, either. Maybe someone’s from Distin, or Regha? If words goes around about that, it might help.”

Klyn looked frozen, but as he looked from me to Fíli and back, his surprise turned to determination. “What you say is true, Kíl. I won’t be ashamed of my Taad’s clan, no more than I am of Maamr’s or Barkhuzi’s. If you think it’d help, then I’ll pass the word.”

“Fíli? Is it a good idea?”

I’ll give my brother this – he thought just as long and hard about what I’d said as I had before I said it, but in the end he still nodded in agreement.

“Yah, I think it’s good, Kíl. But we’re not the ones to know. I think we should tell Derfrulia about it, and let her decide.”

“That’d be best,” Klyn agreed, and I nodded in support. He craned his head, looking for the horse maid. “I’ll tell her.”

“We’ll go with you if you want,” I offered.

“I can do it,” Klyn said, his mouth firm. “I want to do it. It’s time I stood up on my own, so I thank thee for giving me a way to do it.”

Our friend thumped our arms, squared his shoulders, and set off for Derfrulia. Mhornar whuffed to get me back to the important job of feeding her, and normally placid Doksturm actually barked at Fíli, so hungry was he. Chuckling, we doled out the next chunks of meat, but kept watch in silent support of Klyn’s resolution.

“Yah, she’s listening,” Fíli commented as he offered the next chunk of meat. “It was a good idea, Kíl, and for once we offered it the way we should. So we’ll come out all right.”

“This time,” I snickered. “Though we’ve come out all right more than we’ve had any right to expect since we got here, brother. Whether we did things the right way or not.”

“We have,” Fíli shrugged. “Shows what working hard does for a lad.”

“True. I guess Kahgli’s turned a benevolent eye because they know we mean well, even when we don’t get everything right.”

“Thank the Valar for that,” Fíli grinned. “All right, Doksturm, that’s the last piece. It’s Rinnala’s turn now.”

We saw all the dogs fed, and then spent time grooming their coats and paws off to the side, still keeping watch on Klyn, then Derfrulia as she bent her consideration on our friend. From the way her expression lightened and her posture eased, I hoped that my idea pleased her, and would give her a way to ease the refugees’ tensions. Still, I tensed a bit when the horse maid came up to us.

“Nicely done,” she murmured, smiling. “Though I am chagrined that I didn’t think of it first. Of course Kahgli draws its folk from several clans. The fall festival isn’t only about horse races and feasting and goods for barter. Many a match has been made when the clans come together.”

“Oh, good,” I blurted. “I’ve finally done something the right way.”

Derfrulia’s laughter was hearty. “I appreciate your restraint. Enjoy your dogs, lads.”

“Valar, Kíli,” Fíli shook his head, embarrassed at my admission, but his smile wasn’t teasing, and his thump on my shoulder was friendly. “You are such a doh kro.”

“You’re envious,” I grinned back, albeit sheepishly. “You wish you were such a doh kro as I am.”

“Never,” Fíli teased back. “If I were as big a doh kro as you are, we’d have a dozen dogs to tend, not just seven, and that’d be ridiculous.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” I plunked myself down on the grass and gathered silly Alabrin into my lap. “It’d be wonderful, and Kahgli would never let us go back to Thorin’s Halls.”

From the smirk on Fíli’s face, he liked that prospect as much as I did.

 

* * *

 

It was subtle, but the tenor of the refugees’ mood changed soon after Derfrulia complimented us about Kíli’s idea. She still circulated among the refugees, but Klyn was with her, and so were another pair of Dwarves. I knew both as Kahgli, but they must’ve been born in other clans, because discussion rippled among the refugees as well as Kahgli, and nerves calmed considerably. As usual, Kíli was quick to pick up on folks’ moods, and whether he was aware of it or not, his expression eased, and his stance wasn’t so wary. That calmed his dogs, and that calmed the other dogs, and that calmed their Dwarves. So before long, everyone in the caravan drew breath a bit easier. When the two young refugee lads edged close this time, Kíli regarded them with more of a smile than wariness.

“Ankulaz says you’re Kíli?” the taller one ventured.

“Aye,” my brother nodded, urging Alabrin out of his lap to stand up. He offered a bow over his hands, and then pointed to me. “That’s my brother, Fíli.”

“Wyrskaud and Kulkro,” the former said, as we exchanged greeting bows. “Not brothers. Friends.”

“Well met,” Kíli and I murmured.

“S-so m-many herding dogs,” Kulkro stuttered, eying them all. If he looked scared, he also looked curious and excited.

“Oh, this lot’s not herders,” Kíli shook his head. “Herding dogs are smaller and a lot louder. This lot’s all wolfhounds. The best dogs anywhere.”

“Vicious, so it’s said?” Wyrskaud asked, putting his hand on his friend’s arm and giving him a warning glance.

“Oh and oh, not at all!” Kíli exclaimed. “They’re the gentlest and bonniest dogs ever – um, unless you’re a wolf, of course.”

Kulkro shrugged off Wyrskaud’s cautioning hand. “S-so they w-won’t b-bite my hands off?”

Kíli’s eyes grew round in consternation. “Whatever gave you that idea? They’re not monsters, are they? Just dogs. The best friends a lad can have on the grass.”

“Um, they might’ve heard otherwise from folk who don’t know anything about wolfhounds, Kíl,” I murmured. “Like... you know.”

Kíli’s face cleared. “Oh... oh! Um, of course. No, they’re not vicious, not at all. But they’re very special, and so we treat them specially. Would you like to know how?”

Wyrskaud still looked apprehensive, but Kulkro took a quick step forward, nodding eagerly. “Yes. Yes, I w-want to know. They’re b-b-beautiful, and b-b-beautiful animals c-can be evil, but I d-don’t see how these ones c-could be.”

Kíli’s face split in a wide grin. “Yah, that’s right! They’re the bonniest and most beautiful creatures ever. And so smart! They’re very sensitive, really, so it’s bad to yell at them. They won’t have anything to do with anyone who yells at them.”

Kulkro’s head bobbed up and down like it was on a spring, and he took another step forward. “Y-yes, yes, n-no yelling, I underst-stand. N-no y-yelling.”

Kíli turned to Mhornar standing close at his side. “This is Mhornar. She’s my best teacher on the grass. And that’s Alabrin, her consort. Would you like to stroke her fur? She likes that.”

Wyrskaud gulped, but Kulkro’s green eyes held both terror and excitement. “Y-yes. I w-want to. Y-yes.”

Kíli came forward slowly, drawing Mhornar with him. He stooped down and put an arm around Mhornar’s neck. “Mhornar, this is Kulkro. He’d like to greet you, yah?”

Kíli’s queen was calm, and assessed the young lad with a benevolent eye, so Kíli beckoned to the refugee lad. “Come on, then. Just hold your hand out so she can catch your scent. Gently and slowly is best. She won’t hurt you.”

Kulkro stretched out his hand for Mhornar to sniff, which she did with her usual delicacy.

“Yah, that’s perfect. You can touch her flank if you want.”

The young Dwarf didn’t hesitate to stretch his hand out to rest lightly on Mhornar’s shoulder. She regarded Kulkro steadily, so Kíli gave Kulkro an encouraging smile. “Yah, that’s right. She’s got odd fur, doesn’t she? Grows in all directions. See how it goes backwards over her spine?”

“Y-yes, but it’s s-soft. I d-didn’t expect that. I thought it would be w-w-wiry.”

“It’s tricky to brush, not like Alabrin’s at all. His is a lot straighter. And then there’s Rinnala, Fíli’s dog. She’s got the softest fur of all.”

My queen knew Kíli spoke of her, because her neck arched and she gave my brother a saucy look, basking in his flattery. I laughed at her and gave her head a playful scratch. “She’s also the vainest maid ever,” I said fondly. “She doesn’t walk so much as she prances. A fancy lass, from tip to toe."

“She’s... not as... um, strange as Mhornar?” Wyrskaud asked, finally easing a bit of his nervousness.

“They’re all different. Yah, Mhornar’s the wise and mysterious one,” I agreed smiling. “This maid’s the vain one. The best hunter, without doubt, but when she doesn’t have a wolf in her sight, she lives to be worshipped. She loves a good scratch of the ears.”

Wyrskaud watched his friend patting Mhornar with increasing ease, so he swallowed. Rinnala gave him a coy look, which brought a hint of a smile to his pinched face.

“She’s a beauty,” Wyrskaud admitted. “So... do you think...”

“You want to stroke her like Kulkro does Mhornar?” I offered. “She’d like that. Stretch your hand out like Kulkro did, so she can sniff you. Yah, that’s good. Rinnala, this is Wyrskaud. Will you let him say hello?”

My queen took the lad’s light strokes as her due, grinning like she was in ecstasy. Wyrskaud’s nervous expression eased, and his smile grew wider.

“Mahal,” the lad breathed. “She’s not anything like what I’ve heard.”

“They’re not always so placid,” Kíli grinned. “Mhornar’s the mystic, and Rinnala, the queen. But Alabrin is the trickster, he is, and proud of it. He loves to sneak up behind me, and try to knock me down. In fact, look at him, he’s dying to do that right now.”

Sure enough, Alabrin had decided that he wanted in on the attention, and he’d circled around behind Kíli, intent on bouncing his paws on Kíli’s back. When Kulkro looked alarmed, Kíli winked at him.

“No, he won’t hurt me. Let’s let him have his fun. So I’ll just stand up – Mhornar, you know what your silly consort wants to do, don’t you? – and pretend I don’t see him, like this...”

As soon as Kíli stood up, he braced himself quickly, because it was the very opening that Alabrin wanted. He bolted forward, and bounced his front paws against Kíli’s shoulder blades, but my brother stood firm, laughing.

“Oh and oh, I fooled you, lad, didn’t I? You won’t knock me down this time!”

Kíli whirled to face the grinning Alabrin, and slapped his hands against his shoulders. Alabrin bounced up again to prop his paws on Kíli’s shoulders, and Kíli grabbed Alabrin’s forelegs to keep him steady. “Yah, I’ve caught you out this time, haven’t I? He’s a tall one, isn’t he, Kulkro?”

Both the refugee lads took a step back, but Kíli’s laughter and Alabrin’s whuffs reassured them that nothing was wrong. Mhornar snorted as if in amusement at the silliness of lads, Rinnala’s grin widened, and Alabrin gave Kíli’s face a lick before he dropped back to his paws.

“Mahal,” the shorter lad breathed. “They’re amazing!”

“Would you like to meet my bairns?” Kíli invited. “It’s normal to have one dog, and sometimes two, but somehow I’ve got this lot of bairns who follow me, and I’d be glad if you’d help me give them a rub or two or three.”

My conscience twinged – we’d just promised each other not to meddle in clan traditions again, and here my brother was enticing more dogs and one time Urghuls together. I looked around, sure Derfrulia would be hastening towards us to put a stop to things, but I was wrong. There was Derfrulia, outright laughing at us. She shook her head, threw up her hands, and went back to her conversation with Ferrin. Even more amazing was Ankulaz, actually grinning at us. It was so strange to see his usually dour, inscrutable face so transformed.

Valar, were we in the right this time?

I took the expressions of Kahgli’s matriarch and the refugees’ leader as grounds to carry on without interruption. I waded into the stir of dogs, and set to answering the sudden spate of questions that a couple of ragged lads had about the most wonderful dogs in Middle Earth. Wyrskaud relaxed a bit more with each passing moment, but Kulkro was in ecstasy, laughing and stroking whatever wolfhound would tolerate him. That’s how Kíli had looked when the dogs had swarmed us the day we’d first met them. Was it too much to think that one of Kíli’s bairns would take to the ragged lad the way Mhornar and Alabrin had taken to Kíli?

“Who’s th-this one, th-then?” the lad stuttered, trying to hold off the most insistent of the bairns.

“That’s Doksturm,” Kíli laughed. “Eye of the Storm, he is. I think he’s taken with you.”

Kulkro turned wide, scared eyes onto Kíli. “N-no, I d-didn’t – I wouldn’t – it’s – he’s y-your d-dog!”

Kíli grinned as if he’d just pulled off another prank – he had, although lately, it’d be more accurate to call Kíli’s pranks magic for good. “Oh, none of these dogs are mine, are they? Not even Mhornar and Alabrin. It’s the other way around – I’m their Dwarf. They do the choosing, not us. So I think Doksturm thinks you’re his Dwarf now, and thank the Valar! One less dog for me to feed.”

The refugee lad’s eyes widened even more until I expected them to pop out of his head. Doksturm snorted, but softly; he was well named, and tended to be one of the calmest wolfhounds even when he hunted. If he were truly taken with Kulkro, he’d be a good match for the skittish refugee. I gave Wyrskaud a grin, who regarded his friend in stunned amazement.

“You... gave Kulkro one of your dogs?” he mouthed faintly.

I jostled his arm in a friendly manner. “Kíli spoke the truth. The dogs choose us. They know a Dwarf’s character better than we do, and they don’t choose evil folk. The only time they get vicious is when someone evil threatens. So if Doksturm thinks Kulkro’s the Dwarf for him, then that’s that.”

The lad swallowed hard, trying to make sense of this. “But – but Kulkro... he’s my best friend, and true as arrows, but... he stutters! And he’s not much of a hunter.”

“The dogs don’t care about stuttering, or other things like that. And he’ll be a better hunter with Doksturm to help him. Besides, he’s too young to be a good hunter yet. Must be all of fourteen, if that.”

“We’re both seventeen,” Wyrskaud said defensively. “We’re just... small.”

“My mistake,” I hastened to say. Valar, both looked younger than what I’d hazarded, and likely for the same reason. Vazra hadn’t been the only onetime Urghul who’d endured shorted rations. “My brother and I aren’t much older – Kíli just turned nineteen, and I’m twenty-four.”

Wyrstaud’s mouth gaped for a moment before he shut it with an audible click. “Truth?”

“Truth.” My smile was self-deprecating. “The youngest ones but for the bairns.”

“Your brother’s a giant!”

“A fucking huge giant, yah,” I laughed. “You should see him eat. Everything in sight, and he’s still skinny as a stick.”

Wyrstaud bit his lower lip, so I jostled his arm. “As soon as we’re finished with the dogs, we’ll have our turn at the pots. You and Kulkro come with us, and we’ll fill all of us up to the top. And we’ll introduce you to our friends, Klyn and Barkhuzi. Khuzi’s the best rider in all of Kahgli, but his mate Klyn’s the best with the dogs. His Maamr was from Regha, the clan that breeds the wolfhounds, yah? And his Taad was from Urghul. He can tell you anything you want to know about the dogs.”

The look I got put a lump in my throat. So many kinds of hunger in it – for food, of course, but for so much more, too. I didn’t let on, just beckoned to Wyrskaud.

“Come on. Kíli will be all day getting his bairns settled without help, and I’m hungry. Best we help him along.”

“All right,” the lad nodded, and when he approached the tangle of dogs surrounding Kíli this time, he seemed easier. Kíli, of course, had heard all I’d said, and if his smile was bright enough, I would’ve given odds that inside he felt no different than I did. We made sure that all seven of the dogs got a good scrub of the ears and flanks, and sure enough, Doksturm left Kíli alone to concentrate his attentions on Kulkro. We got the flight of them settled away from the kitchen fire, then we shepherded the two lads to get full bowls of stew.

“I’ll get Klyn and Khuzi,” Kíli whispered to me, as we found a spot in the shade of the tent canvas to have our meal. Off he trotted, and when he came back, he and our friends carried a full rack of roasted antelope between them.

“Let’s eat!” Kíli called ahead. “This is Barkhuzi with the red hair, and Klyn with the black hair. That’s Wyrskaud with the chestnut hair, and Kulkro with the darker hair. Well met all!”

Food was the perfect introduction, and we all fell on it like we hadn’t eaten for a week. Rations might have been sadly lacking for the onetime Urghul lads for longer than that, so even Kíli moderated his ravening appetite to let the younger lads have their fill. There was plenty of stew and other grilled bits, and good, hot tea, so eventually even Kulkro and Wyrskaud were sated. Kíli lay back in a near stupor, as we had been up all night and then helped to hunt the antelope we’d just inhaled, but he roused himself to collect all of our gnawed bones to tote them back to the cooking fire. When he returned, he had all of our dogs with him, and they settled themselves in the shade around us. That was all it took to drive both lads to pepper the four of us with all sorts of questions about dogs, ponies, and everything else.

It was fitting. Kíli, Barkhuzi, Klyn, and I had satisfied the lads’ physical hunger, at least for the moment. Now we’d do our best to feed all of the other ones.


	63. Chapter 63

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kahgli and the refugees come to an agreement. As summer rushes on, anticipation builds for the fall festival.

I fell asleep to the sound of Klyn and Barkhuzi telling the two refugee lads all sorts of stories about the nature of wolfhounds. Kulkro was in ecstasy, his arm draped over Doksturm’s shoulders to stay close, no matter that the sun turned the grass hotter with every moment that passed. Wyrskaud still looked uncertain, but Fíli’s genial conversation and ready smile was as reassuring to the lad as it had been to me as I’d grown from a pebble. I wanted to stay awake to see if one of my bairns would take to Wyrskaud, but the long night’s ride, our river fording, and the morn hunt conspired with my full belly to drag me closer to sleep with every breath. Alabrin settled on one side of me to lay his head on my thigh, and Mhornar put her head on her paws on the other side, and off I went.

I woke when the sun had shifted enough that I was no longer in the shade. Valar, it was hot! The space under the canvas was full, but there was shade on the far side. Fíli, Klyn, Barkhuzi, and the two refugee lads were still asleep in the remaining shade, so Mhornar, Alabrin, the bairns, and I shifted without disturbing the rest. I dropped off without concern, and when I next awoke, it was late afternoon. The Dwarf tending the pots looked sleepy, so I took a couple of skewers to toast for myself. After those, a bowl or two of stew, and some tea, I was ready to face whatever the eve would bring.

There was fresh meat for the dogs, so I started to dole out bits. What would the eve bring? Would we pack up and resume our journey home? Would the refugees come with us? In what capacity? As hunters and herders? Thirty-four Dwarves were too many for Kahgli to host as guests for long. It didn’t seem likely that they’d ride away after a few days, either – there was no home for them to return to.

Barkhuzi ambled over, still yawning and stretching after his rest. Neyshath trailed him closely – he was hungry, and his intent gaze was fixed firmly on the bowl of meat chunks that his Dwarf had in his hands.

“Kíl,” Barkhuzi lifted a hand in casual greeting.

“What’s the word, then?” I replied. “Do we stay near the river, or go on?”

“Both,” my friend grinned as he held out the first chunk to his hungry wolfhound. When I snorted, he gave me a good-natured shrug. “No, I mean it – we’ll stay near the river as we go south back to our tents. I expect we’ll reach them sometime the day after tomorrow, but still, I’d rather have the wherewithal for fresh water anytime I want a drink, and a cooling splash in between marches is always a pleasure.”

“True. What about the refugees? Do they go with us?”

Barkhuzi nodded. “I expect they will. I didn’t hear all of it, but I think that’ll be the gist. Grandmother will say something before long, once everyone has the chance to wake up. Khel’s had a lot of nursing to do.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I said at once, thinking about all the injured folk. “I’m not a fully trained field medic yet, but I know one end of a bandage from the other, so if I can help, I will. Fíli can help, too.”

“I think Yanna’s already put him to work,” Barkhuzi nodded at my brother making his way towards us. Rinnala was beside him, but so was the Kahgli heir. They broke off their amiable chatting when they saw us looking at them.

“Khuzi, Kíl,” my brother heralded. When Yanna offered her greetings with a similar smile, Barkhuzi and I nodded back.

“So what does Grandmother plan for us today, Yanna?” my friend asked. “Kíl and I were off to help Khel, but does Grandmother need us elsewhere?”

“She’s been in deep conversation with Ankulaz and my uncles since we turned for home,” the maid said. “She’s talked with each of the refugees, too, if some more than others.”

“What does she talk to them about?” Fíli asked in curiosity. “What life was like in Clan Urghul, I’d guess?”

“Sometimes,” Yanna agreed. “But other times, it was things I’d never think to ask. What someone’s favorite meal is, or what part of herding they liked most or least, or if someone stitched their own embroideries or if someone did it for them.

“The two old dams had it worst,” Yanna confided, her face turning hard. “Tobazel treated them like personal slaves, mostly to spite Arberch, so in response she treated them even worse to spite him. What a loathsome couple they made! Nobody would gainsay them – they thought things would be worse for everyone if Tobazel felt threatened. I don’t think many of them will miss him one jot.”

“So the refugees will stay with Kahgli?” Barkhuzi questioned.

“That’s Grandmother’s place to say,” Yanna shrugged. “I expect she’ll say something soon. Folk are already asking whether we’ll stay here or ride on this morn.”

While we waited on Derfrulia, my brother, my friends, and I joined Khel to help him see to the wounded. After what I’d heard about the poor dams, I brought them soup while Khel tended to them, staying very quiet and slow, but with as warm a smile as I could manage. When a couple of my bairns ventured close, Grimmdrengi plunked himself down between them with a sigh and thumped his tail when they dared to pet him. It was heartening to see the two dams smile at my silly bairn, so I hoped I’d done them good in return.

It wasn’t long before Derfrulia made good on Yanna’s expectation to speak. When the horse maid beckoned, everyone sat around the wounded still being attended to.

“I have decided,” Derfrulia began in her usual way. “Kahgli has extended its hands in friendship to Ankulaz and his honorable folk. We are pleased to see all those among us regain their health and strength.”

That met with hums of agreement from Kahgli as well as the refugees.

“I have talked long with our folk, and with Ankulaz and his folk. It is not Kahgli’s way to leave fellow Dwarves to suffer after the predations of a few villains who will trouble us no more. Kahgli has lost folk from the predations of those villains, too, and it would be fit if together we improve the lot of us all. Kahgli would welcome all of Ankulaz’s folk who want to work as contract hunters and herders until the fall festival. Those who offer honest work will be paid our usual contract wages. When we travel to the fall festival, those who choose to find work elsewhere are free to do so. For those who have offered honest work and want to stay, we will welcome as many as our fortunes can support.”

“What about Varak and Glorak?” Grumko’s quavering voice cut in. “And Vazra and wee Taalmaak?”

The old sire meant the two old dams, and the young dam and her bairn. My gaze traveled swiftly from him to Derfrulia, whose expression softened as she regarded the four folk he’d mentioned.

“They have suffered enough,” she said simply. “Kahgli is glad to have them among us.”

I glanced at Fíli. I still recalled the conversation where Klyn and Barkhuzi told us about how the clan couldn’t afford folk unable to work. His expression said that he recalled the same moment, but even so, he nodded in support, as did many other Kahgli. Still, Derfrulia’s wording wasn’t lost on me – there would be many folk competing for Kahgli’s hunting contracts now. Fíli and I might have a year’s contract safely arranged, but if we wanted more than that, we’d better stay sharp, attentive, and effective. Thank the Valar that Grun’s stir was over - now it’d be much easier to concentrate on what we’d contracted to do. We had a lot to learn, but I would learn it well, because I was already one of the folk who wanted to stay with Kahgli next year.

“My folk and I thank Kahgli for its compassion and wisdom,” Ankulaz was saying, offering the horse maid a bow. “We are eager to make a new start with you, and prove that your offers to us are not misplaced.”

“It is well time that we make the most of a new start,” Derfrulia gave a regal nod as befit her position as clan matriarch. Then she raised her hands to us all. “Let us pack, and make our way home!”

That was good news indeed, and a good face on a good start. The Valar knew if any of the refugees would take umbrage at the unfamiliar ways of a matriarchal clan, and what would happen if they did, but perhaps steady meals, less turmoil, and improved circumstances would convince them to go along. In the meantime, I jumped up with the rest of my companions to pack canvas and cook pots, and set off south. In a day or two, we’d be back to Kahgli’s long neglected routine, and I was ready for it.

 

* * *

 

No one was in the mood to delay our return home, so we packed and resumed our travels under the darkening sky in moments. There was a full moon rising to guide us, and our wolfhounds ranged around us to alert wolves that we passed in force. Before long, we began to pass Kahgli ponies and goats as well as antelope in increasing numbers. After that, the undulations smoothed at the edge of the flat land, and we turned southwest. Our pace was faster now, given that we didn’t have to watch our step so carefully on the flat as we had on the slopes. Like Kíli, I strained my eyes to pick out the tiniest bright mote of flame from the surrounding greys and blacks, for that would be the Kahgli beacon fire to lead us home. I was overeager, though, for we were still too far northeast to see the beacon, and likely wouldn’t see it until the next night. As the dawn came, Derfrulia called a stop, and most of us set to pitching our canvas. Kíli and I went out on hunting duty again, as did Barkhuzi and Klyn. Antelope were quite plentiful here, and we quickly had enough for the day’s needs. We fed and tended our dogs, ate our breakfast, and crowded under the canvas or in the shade to sleep.

I slept without waking until the afternoon. The excitement was palpable, because we expected to see our tents before long. Even the dogs sensed it, for Rinnala capered and danced, running over the grass and looking back at me as if to tell me to hurry my slow bones, because why did I want to stay here when home was that way? We bolted down our rations, saddled the ponies, and away we went.

The night was almost past when a yell went up. There was the beacon fire! It was all I could do not to thump my pony into an exuberant canter, but Derfrulia called for us to keep to our trot in deference to the wounded. Holding our pace was prudent for more than the wounded. Both Kahgli and refugees remained on unfamiliar footing, and until we sorted out where potential obstacles were, it was better to keep our heads about us.

At long last, Derfrulia sent Merruli, Yanna, Barkhuzi, and Klyn ahead to alert the camp that we were close at hand. In just a handful of moments more, we clattered up to the welcome sight of our wealth of tents, a proper outdoor kitchen, the brush enclosure, and the pens for dams and their young. As dawn lightened the sky, I turned a happy grin on my little brother, who gazed back at me with no less glee. Maybe now life could settle into less of a roil.

Derfrulia let little time pass in awkward silences. Was it surprising that the refugees gazed around themselves, unsure of what to make of such riches? She didn’t give them long to worry – already she was among her folk, directing some to unpack the ponies, and others to raise more canvas, and still others to add stores to the already simmering pots. There was Cyth, shading her eyes with her hand to take in the stir, but Derfrulia wasn’t content merely to let her watch. She drew her to Varak and Glorak, then Vazra and Taalmaak, talking and gesturing. Her mother stiffened at first, but Taalmaak made short work of that, and soon Cyth drew the foursome off with her usual brisk bustle.

When Ilka strode forward to help her mother-in-law to assign the duties, and Kíli and I were set to unpacking ponies. Wyrskaud and Kulkro ran up, both of them eager to help, so we showed them all that Kahgli had passed on to us about how to stack the gear, and where the pack frames went.

For the first time, we got to see the refugee’s ponies close up. Their coats, manes, and tails were rough and tangled, but we joined the groomers to see that put right. They were sturdy little beasts, if a bit wild, but the refugee lads were quick to tell us the name of their ponies, which helped us settle them. Most of them loved having their coats brushed out, and they stood quietly for that with many a blissful nicker. Tidied up, they looked much better, if thinner than our stock. A few weeks on Kahgli grass would remedy that, and if the refugees wanted to sell them at the fall festival, they’d get a good price. Maaggulmuli and Khel tended the few that had sores or other complaints, but for the most part, good fodder was all they needed to bring them back to health.

Of course, the first thing that I wanted, even more than breakfast, was a good wash. I hadn’t had a good one since we’d left Kahgli’s village. I wasn’t the only one, so once the ponies were set right, many a Dwarf collected soap, rags, and brushes, and set off for the river. Klyn and Barkhuzi helped us draw Kulkro and Wyrskaud along, because both of them were filthy even for Dwarves. Most of the refugees trailed after us, even the oldest sires who seemed to take a dim view of applying soap and water to the dirt crusting them. As Kíli drew the two refugee lads ahead with him and his flight of dogs, I said as much to Barkhuzi.

“Oh, that’s no lie,” my friend winked. “Derfrulia had to put her foot firmly down about that. Most of them host a world of pests under their tunics, and she doesn’t want those under our canvas. Expect to see Maaggulmuli and Khel passing out goatsweed salve as hair dressing before we’re done!”

I snickered. “Then it’s our duty to scrub down to the bone as a good example, then. I’ll hate every minute of it.”

“Aye, me along with you,” Barkhuzi snickered back. “Cool water, sturdy soap, a chance to tidy my braids... dreadful.”

“Even worse to scrub the dogs. They hate that even more than we do.”

Ahead of us, Kíli had already stripped bare and plunged into the water with six dogs capering around him. “Your brother hates it worst of all.”

“I’ll put the lie to that,” I said, peeling off my tunic. “Quick as quick can be!”

A lot of soap turned into lather in the next hour as we scrubbed off the rigors our long journey. If some of the refugees didn’t like the soapy part, most of them smiled at the exuberant splashing games that turned dogs and Dwarves into sopping fools. It was good to laugh again! Kíli was still too slight to want to get in the middle of the worst thumping matches, but he watched from the sidelines as Barkhuzi and I joined forces to give as good as we got. Kíli had Kulkro and Wyrskaud with him, and Klyn, and they all scrubbed a lot of dogs clean in the midst of their play. In between shoving and swimming, I kept an eye on them, When the dogs ran out of the water to shake, then run about chasing each other, my brother scrubbed out his clothing and left it to dry on the bank along with the swath of everyone else’s cloth. The banks looked almost as thickly covered as the table of any good market stall, though some of the goods looked worse for the wear. Still, in an hour’s time, by the time the morn’s hot sun had dried everything, we’d all combed and rebraided our hair, and with clean clothing we all looked better for our efforts. We went to breakfast in good spirits.

Aye, the scent of goatsweed salve was pervasive. But that wouldn’t dim my appetite for breakfast, not at all.

Spring faded into full summer, and so began a new season on the grass. Several of the oldest refugee sires went with Ferrin and Mulgrum out to the smaller Kahgli camps, but most of the youngest stayed under the watchful eyes of Ankulaz and Derfrulia here at the main camp. As Kíli and I weren’t the newest or youngest Kahgli novices anymore, we were among the folk who helped our newcomers into their new life. Kíli was mentor to Kulkro along with Klyn, and I was mentor to Wyrskaud with Barkhuzi, so the six of us grew close as the days and weeks of summer passed. Wyrskaud relaxed enough around the dogs that an old veteran herding dog decided he was worth shepherding. Yanna’s grieving for her previous dog had eased, and the mystery about her mother’s death was resolved, so she was of much lighter mien. A sprightly wolfhound puppy took to following her around, and before long they were firm companions. Several of the youngest refugees also proved to be good company to more dogs, too, both herders and hunters.

The surprising ones were Varak and Glorak. Once Cyth and Ilka took them under their wings, they seemed to breathe easier, and stand taller. Both were surprisingly good aback a pony, and that’s when a pair of brother wolfhounds decided that the old sisters were worth their attention. Soon both of the dams were petting and cooing over their dogs like they were the fanciest lads on the grass, and became as competent to watch over the herd as any of us.

Little Taalmaak stuffed his face as if he wanted to rival Kíli for eating, but he was too small for his age, and no one begrudged him a mouthful. He was a happy lad, and settled with the other bairns easily; if his dam Vazra remained quiet and skittish, she was happy in her way, thanks to Cyth’s quiet friendship. It was an association that benefited Cyth, too, for the old dam carried herself with more confidence as the young dam under her care calmed.

Now that the flies were gone, the hungry wolves led us on a never-ending chase. The refugees were well skilled in spotting the beasts, and gladly helped Kahgli protect our herds. Kíli gave a few more archery lessons, and even the most stubborn old refugee sires who’d viewed this strange-looking Dwarf with suspicion had to admit he was death to any wolf that thought to lay teeth to our stock.

Of course it had to come out that Kíli and I weren’t Kahgli born. It wasn’t ever a secret, as Tobazel’s onetime followers had heard the Urghul patriarch call my brother Durin’s meddling archer. But no one realized that we were Uncle Thorin’s heirs until Kulkro and Wyrskaud passed around that I was Kíli’s brother. By then, the refugees knew we worked hard and didn’t put on airs, so little came of the realization. Folk were more interested to hear our fiddle tunes, or laugh at our antics when we weren’t on patrol with the herds.

Under Barkhuzi’s guidance, most of our antics had a serious purpose. Now that we had more folk to patrol on the grass, our red-haired friend had Kíli and me aback Kahgli’s horses as often as we could manage it. Yanna wasn’t the only Dwarf rankled at the loss of last year’s horse race at the fall festival. All of Kahgli was determined that this year we’d reclaim bragging rights. Of course, everyone was convinced that Kíli would be the one to do the reclaiming, hence the anticipatory smiles when anyone mentioned the time he spent aback Lathga and Kulomar. That could’ve put a lot of pressure on my little brother, but he wisely deflected most of it. He declared that he would never become as canny a rider as Barkhuzi himself in just a couple of months, so while he was eager to learn all he could, it’d be smart to train several worthy riders, not just him alone.

My brother’s down-to-earth admission met with startled looks, then nods when folk realized the sense behind it. After that, seven or eight of us, me included, schooled the horses as Barkhuzi schooled us. Surprisingly, we had Kulkro and another refugee lad with us. Most of the refugees made their peace with the Kahgli’s wolfhounds soon enough, but most remained skittish around the horses, and huge Lathga and Kulomar in particular terrified them... until Kíli casually said that of course any Dwarf who respected the Taalderfruli would surely find favor aback such tall horses. That sentiment heartened many of the refugees, and Kulkro was the first to ask to join our romps. He was an odd lad, as full of terror as anyone at first, but maybe his success with Doksturm emboldened him. He had something of Kíli’s rapport with animals, and the more he began to trust it more than the nonsense he’d been fed about Kahgli’s animals, the more he relaxed. He and Kíli became good friends, but he grew particularly close with Klyn. That helped to ease the waning of his tight friendship with Wyrskaud, who found easier company with herders rather than hunters. Neither seemed angry or sad about their changing circumstances; rather, they were glad that they were better off than they had been before Kahgli had come to call on Urghul’s poor camp.

Summer was on the wane when I realized that it’d been weeks since I’d heard anyone speak of the refugees among us as if they were a separate group. By now, they were well part of us, and gladly so. Even the one or two oldest sires whom Kíli had expected to cause a fuss about becoming part of a matriarchal clan had fallen into line. That was entirely due to Derfrulia’s skill as a leader. She was fair, well reasoned, and most importantly, she listened to her folk, and made her decisions for the benefit of all, not herself. Anyone who thought the nature of a leader negated his or her wisdom was a fool, and none of these Dwarves were that.

As the grass turned brown and brittle, the Derfrulia’s governance guided us to preparations for the upcoming winter. Up went the smoke tents, to preserve meat that would keep throughout the coldest months. The antelope fat that had gone into the goatsweed salve now went into pots with all the odd bits of meat and ripe marsh berries to make a rich, dense paste that we stored in pots. Everyone who could hold a scraper or burnisher worked constantly on tanning skins to make blankets, furred coats, hoods, mittens, boot liners, and many other warm garments. The best skins folk set aside to trade at the upcoming festival for whatever suited them, whether necessity or indulgence. I’d thought to trade for new boots that fit me better than those I’d been given from the unfortunate Hassen’s things, but Cyth had taken Derfrulia’s instruction seriously to make sure Kíli and I were well ready for winter. She made us beautiful pairs of tough yak leather boots with rabbit fur liners. We had warm fur tunics put by for the colder months, too, and thick fur blankets and stuffed pillows to match. She promised to teach us both the finer points of embroidery and fancy stitches once the weather curtailed our outdoor duties.

Now that Grun’s malice was all but forgotten, Kíli didn’t have quite the need to work on his impression of the eerily fucking menace that he thought should stand at my left shoulder. Whether he thought so or not, I considered him to be exactly what he’d set out to be – a bit eerie and unsettling, and eminently skilled with his bow. I was honored to call him my brother, and if I didn’t wish the Thorin Halls bullies to prey on him again, I did have a secret desire to see their faces when they saw what Kíli had become. But to savor their blanched and consternated expressions was a pleasure I’d gladly forgo forever if it meant that Kíli never had to endure even their glares again. Still, Kíli wasn’t willing to give up all of his careful preparations, even if he didn’t intend to give a bully pause. No, now he was determined to make all other clans’ riders of tall horses give him a wide berth, because he wanted to do well for Kahgli in the festival. So he intended to wear his dark wolfskin hood with black tunic, trews, boots, and riding gloves so he’d be all of a piece with either Lathga or Kulomar. Under Barkhuzi’s tutelage, he was better than a good rider, if not the instinctive expert that our friend was. But there was no denying that he cut a mysterious figure in his dark attire atop a dark horse.

So inspiring was he that all of us hoping to race took to wearing similar hoods. Kahgli loved the pageantry and the excitement, and dubbed us the Wolf Riders. It was exciting to race around together as often as duties allowed, and our efforts further fueled the excitement about the upcoming festival.

The air was still bright with summer’s light and heat, but the grass told us that colder days weren’t far off – bit by bit, the blades gradually paled from green to pale brown. As it turned deeper brown, Kahgli raced to prepare for the coming cold. The winds would stiffen, so we repaired, reinforced, and replaced canvas tenting in preparation. We put so much food aside – how would we carry it all when we moved to our winter quarters closer to the mountains? Cyth assured me that we’d haul all this and more, and even then we’d hope the winter didn’t linger on the grass longer than this bounty would last us. To further stuff our larder, we made plans for after the fall festival, when the annual fish run would rush up from the wide gulf that was the origin of the Lhûn River. The big salmon were delicious eating, and once dried and smoked they’d form an important part of Kahgli’s winter diet.

I admit that I didn’t heed much of the discussion about fish, because I was still as intent on the fall festival as Kíli and many others were. Maybe once we had that excitement behind us, we’d be more sanguine about catching fish.

“Valar, Kíl,” I put my arms akimbo to regard my brother sitting on his cot. He’d untied his bundle of furs to add his most recent finished pelts to it, and he looked waist deep in them. “We’ll have to raise the tent to make room for your bundle before long.”

Kíli chortled as he sorted out the wolf pelts from the rabbit ones. “Maybe not, if I trade a few at the festival. You’ve got almost as many as I do.”

“What do you want to trade for?” I asked, plunking down on my cot to regard my brother.

Kíli shrugged. “ No idea. I’ll take a good, long look around first. I don’t need a bow or arrows or a quiver, and I don’t need any blades. Kahgli saddles are fine. I’ve got Cyth’s boots that she made me, and a good stout coat. So I don’t need much. What about you?”

“Maybe a saddle blanket like Khuzi has, with the bright tassels,” I considered. “That’d look fine, regardless of the pony or the saddle.”

Kíli hummed agreement. “I hope we get to see the buzkashi games we’ve heard so much about. They sound like total mayhem.”

“Yah, just your cup of tea,” I teased. “You’ll be in the thick of it, whether you know how to play the game or not.”

“Maybe you, too.” Kíli’s giggle was gleeful as he sorted his new furs into the bundle, then rolled everything small again. “Here, lend a hand, yah?”

I helped my brother hold the bundle together as he wrapped horsehair lashings around it and tied them off.

“Thanks.” Kíli heaved his bundle of tanned furs down beside the end of his cot. “How long do you think it’ll be before we hear when the festival will be held?”

“Any day, I hope. Everyone’s all but panting, waiting to hear.”

“Me among them,” Kíli exhaled. “The fish run sounds exciting, too, but once you catch fish, you have to clean them and smoke them and dry them and do the Valar know what else, all of which smell like fish. Not the same kind of excitement as flying over the grass on Lathga.”

“Truth,” I grinned. “But better to eat fish than horsemeat in the depths of the cold.”

“It’s coming,” Kíli said suddenly, looking thoughtful. “The cold, I mean. The sun’s light has changed, have you noticed? It’s brighter, but colder at the same time.”

It didn’t surprise me that Kíli had noticed that before I had, but as I thought about it, yes, he was right. Soon enough, the air would cool enough for everyone to notice, but for the moment, it was still hot. Kahgli was always careful with fire, whether under the pots, on the tent hearths, or in the beacon pit. But we were even more careful now, because the grass was nothing but tinder, and the dirt was nothing but dry dust. We needed one of the rare summer storms to lessen the risk of fire, but we were not likely to get one this late in the season. Maybe the first moisture we’d get would be snow in a few weeks.

“I’ve got night duty before long,” I commented as Kíli finished with his bundle of furs. “I’ll eat early so Rinnala’s got a nice long time to rest before we have to go out.”

“I’m with you, brother,” Kíli smiled. “I’m out tonight, too. Let’s go eat now.”

“Good idea,” I agreed.

We pulled on boots at the entrance to the tent and went out with our dogs following us. Kíli had fewer dogs following him these days, as his bairns had matured enough for Mhornar and Alabrin to urge them away from “their” Dwarf. While Kíli was sorry to see them less often, he didn’t complain about having fewer mouths to feed morn and eve. We went to Vikken’s realm to tend Rinnala and Kíli’s two dogs, then pillaged the kitchen pots for rabbit stew, grilled antelope, berry flatbread, and our usual butter tea. It was pleasant to find a spot in the shade of the kitchen canvas to pay our meal proper attention.

Kíli went back twice more for one dish or another and was still stuffing himself when excitement swirled among the canvas.

“What’s going on?” my brother paused in mid bite to scramble to his feet and look for the force of the stir.

“There,” I pointed west, squinting against the sun. “A rider?”

“ _Skator_ , yah!” Kíli threw me an anticipatory grin. “Maybe it’s word of the festival!”

We joined everyone else who ran out to meet the rider. He was one of the Dwarves from Kahgli’s westernmost camp, which would be the first one to hear word of the festival. As we waved and called, he answered us with an ululating cry of greeting. Derfrulia hastened to the front of the gathering, with Yanna beside her.

“Festival?” Derfrulia cupped her hands around her mouth to send her strong voice ringing across the grass. “Is it festival?”

The approaching rider drew his pony to a skidding stop that sent dust billowing around him. He laughed to see all of us clamoring, and we laughed because his wide grin was the answer we craved.

“Festival is at the next full moon!” he shouted.

All eyes went immediately to the moon, just a day past full, as it sank after the sun. In another twenty-eight days, we’d gather with the other steppe clans for food, bartering, contests, music, and no end of delight.


	64. Chapter 64

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excitement is high as Kahgli readies for the fall festival. What will the Brothers Durin and their friends find when they arrive?

How excited Kahgli became at word of the festival! If the frenzy of activity to prepare for winter weren’t high-pitched enough, it spiked even higher as everyone scrambled to ready goods for barter. Even our newest folk had furs or braided ropes of pony hair or rawhide ready for market-day barter; others had fancywork and other crafts. Fíli and I each had a pile of skins, wolf, rabbit, and even a few fox, each painstakingly cleaned, burnished, smoked, and then burnished again to make them the best quality. We’d given Vazra several of our rabbit skins from which she could make warm things for herself and little Taalmaak against the coming winter, but even so, our haul was impressive. Thank the stars that Fíli and I had diligently cleaned and worked the skins as we’d taken them, rather than waiting; Barkhuzi had us aback Orrud and Lathga so much that neither of us had the energy to labor over skins with any attention. I barely noticed that several folk also raced back and forth on ponies. Yanna was among them atop her well-loved spotted pony Shar.

Amassing of market goods and racing horses and ponies weren’t the only manias to sweep through Kahgli’s tents – dog racing fascinated just as much. Many older sires wouldn’t ride in the pony and horse races, but several had high hopes for their wolfhounds, and took to racing them back and forth just beyond the tents. To hear them tell of it, far more goods would change hands on the outcome of dog races than horse races, simply because far more dogs would run than horses. Of course, Fíli and I tried our hands at it. Rinnala acted if all the other wolfhounds ran only to pursue her, so she was a dreadful tease and never stretched out her leads, which made her victories far from certain. Alabrin and Mhornar were more interested in winning. They tended to run as a pair, backing each other up as they did when they pursued wolves, and they were effective at blocking other dogs that thought to run between them. Klyn’s Kulazhath was swiftest, as fast as a stooping falcon, and any dog would be hard pressed to beat him.

If some folk took dog races – or betting on them – dead seriously, I wasn’t one of them. Perversely, I appreciated their humor. In fact, I wouldn’t need to bet a single skin to gain the laugh of my life. The unattached dogs decided that all this running about was the perfect game rather than a betting consideration; as more and more of them capered beside those trying to race, every practice run turned into chaos almost before it began. Who knew which dog would finish a real race first? Wolfhounds might strike fear into the heart of wolves and villains anywhere on the grass, but when milling about a racecourse, they were hilariously silly.

The silliness of racing, whether of dogs or horses, and the mad scramble for goods, abated in a week or so, but not because of declining interest. All other tasks and pursuits stood aside as Kahgli, from youngest lad to oldest dam, spread across the grass to bring in the ponies that would be offered for sale at the festival. Strangely, we didn’t collect any of the goats at all. Maybe they weren’t sold? And what about the upcoming winter? After the festival, would we collect the goats as well as the ponies to drive to winter quarters? This seemed a lot of effort to collect for the festival only to collect again for the winter, but as Kahgli was nothing but not prudent with its holdings, the reason would reveal itself before long.

After we gathered the ponies around the main camp, Khel and Maaggulmuli tended the ones that needed it, and Merruli, Derfrulia, and Yanna chose which ones would go to the festival for sale. Several Dwarves would remain at the main camp to oversee the herds not destined for sale, but the rest of us would soon be off, headed for the secondary camp that Derfrulia’s middle son, Mulgrum, kept. It was the southernmost of Kahgli’s four camps, and closest to the festival grounds. It made sense for Kahgli to collect its sale animals at Mulgrum’s camp rather than the main camp, so that we minimized the time we drove stock back and forth. So Fíli and I set to with everyone else to pack up our personal things as well as a lot of the canvas, so we’d be ready once Kahgli’s leaders chose all the stock they wanted for the festival.

“Next spring, Grandmother says she might switch the position of our main tents and Ferrin’s,” Barkhuzi confided as Fíli and I worked with him to string the ponies together in their caravan lines. “But she says that every year. Ferrin’s tents are closest to the center of our range, which means we’d have less work to gather the herds and move them to winter quarters. But putting our main tents here mean we put more animals at the farthest eastern edge of our range, which saves more of the grass by the mountains for the winter, so it’s a constant discussion.”

Fíli looked up from the pony he’d just rigged. “Maybe Derfrulia talks about that switch just to keep folk aware that it might happen. Nothing’s forever out here, and your Grandmother’s a wise dam to remind us of that.”

Barkhuzi nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly so! I never thought about it in that light, but you’re right, Fíl. She’s said it so often that if we had drought or something and had to make the switch, no one would think twice about switching camps.”

“Is Ferrin’s camp more or less like this one?” I asked.

“It’s smaller, but otherwise the same,” my friend confirmed. “The Lhûn’s a bit shallower there, and the Blue Mountains are a bit closer, though you have to look hard to notice that.”

“The festival grounds – are they by the Blue Mountains?” Fíli asked.

“Yah, that’s what I want to know, too,” I chimed in. “I don’t understand why we gather just the ponies for the festival now. Doesn’t that mean we have to come out here again, collect the ponies again and all the goats to boot, just to march back to the mountains?”

“We used to do everything in one trip, aye,” Barkhuzi agreed. “And aye, the festival grounds used to be hard at the foot of the mountains. They were for the longest time, but only until a generation ago. Such a spot might seem the perfect place, yah? As you said, just collect all the stock, ponies as well as goats, then drive the lot towards the mountains so we attend festival and get to winter quarters all in one effort.”

“So what happened to change that?” Fíli asked.

“Good fortune,” Barkhuzi grinned. “All of the clans have prospered, and the combined herds are too large for any one clan to host at festival. It takes a lot of grass to feed so many, and before long the hosting clan ended up losing a substantial part of its winter fodder, which was a terrible hardship. So the clans agreed that festival would be earlier than just before winter, and it’d be far enough out on the grass so no clan had to sacrifice its winter fodder. Of course it makes for more work – just as you said, Kíl, the clans collect their stock for festival as Kahgli does now, then after festival, we collect it again to drive it to winter quarters. But this way, no clan suffers any more than any other during the winter, and the festival ground has a year to recover before the next one. It’s sensible.”

“Kahgli doesn’t take goats to the festival?” I asked.

Barkhuzi shook his head. “We’re the only clan with wool goats, because we’ve got the best range for them. We’ve got our village to handle the wool, too, which the other clans don’t have. So there’s no market for the goats themselves. There _is_ a market for the wool goods, though.”

“So we’ll see some of the villagers at the festival?” Fíli guessed. “That’s a long haul for them, though, so maybe not?”

“It _is_ a long, long haul,” Barkhuzi said. “So we take it in stages. When word comes of when the festival is to be held, our village sends out a caravan of goods to our northernmost camp. They have a few days to rest while that camp gathers its ponies. When that camp rides out with its ponies to Ferrin’s camp, the wool caravan goes, too. Same thing happens at Ferrin’s camp – he collects his festival stock, and when he heads to Mulgrum’s camp, the wool caravan comes along. You’ll see our ponies packed with big bundles when we reach Mulgrum’s camp. Those are the wool goods.”

“So the festival grounds must be east of here?” I asked.

“More south than east. Right where the Lhûn and the Little Lhûn branch, on the eastern bank. Unless we have a drought year, most clans stay on the west side of the river, no matter their range. We’ll find lots of water there, of course, and plenty of grass – a good spot for all.”

“Well considered, all round,” Fíli nodded.

“It’s been nigh on a hundred years since the clans chose that spot,” Barkhuzi went on. “Cyth was matriarch then, and she worked hard to convince all the clans that it made sense. We’re stubborn folk, as you know – but give a Dwarf enough time, and change isn’t so upsetting. She even got the clans to help plant the first long grass near the grounds. We gather it to feed the stock that everyone brings to festival. Taad says it was a long and arduous wrangle Cyth made to get that done, but now, everyone accepts the festival grounds and the long grass as a proper welcome to all who come each year. Do town folk have anything like our festival?”

“We don’t have a large annual gathering,” I shook my head. “We have livestock markets several times a year, though none so grand as Kahgli’s.”

“We do have outdoor market every morn during the warm months,” Fíli took up the tale. “There’s a big cobbled ground on one side of Thorin’s Halls, and it has a spring of good water that anyone can use. You can get meat, vegetables, eggs, milk, cheese, and baked goods there, as well as all the usual goods – clothing, blankets, tinwork, blades, just about anything. When it turns cold, we have a small hall where you go for meat and whatever winter crops there are, three morns a week. You visit the homes of the crafters if you need anything else.”

“So you have goods available year round,” Barkhuzi summarized, looking impressed. “That must be grand.”

“Folk don’t like the winter months, even so,” Fíli grinned. “It’s hard to get the most desirable commodity that any village can offer when you have to slog so many different places.”

“Oh?” Barkhuzi straightened to give Fíli a mystified look. “What commodity is that? Eggs? Cheese?”

“Fresh gossip!” Fíli laughed as the three of us linked the last in this line of ponies. “Any day at outdoor market is a satisfying day, no matter how it rains, because many have a tale to tell with the goods they sell, and many more are eager to listen. I’ll bet as much gossip gets bandied about your fall festival as anything else.”

“Oh, Mahal, that’s no lie!” Barkhuzi guffawed. “Urghul’s end will be the excitement of the decade, if not longer. I’m glad that Grandmother offered our newest folk the chance to be our newest folk. That’ll quiet a lot of the nastier tongues.”

I sobered. Summer with Kahgli had almost made me forget the trials I’d endured in Thorin’s Halls, but at Barkhuzi’s observation, I recalled them all quite clearly. “They’d harry the refugees, you mean.”

“Maybe worse,” Barkhuzi shrugged. “But as Kahgli’s got no feud with them, so no one else should, either. Kahgli’s known for quality, so let’s hope the fools note that. Even so, we’ll watch out for Kulkro and Wyrskaud, and especially Vazra. They’ve not seen festival before, so we’ll show them the good and keep them away from the bad.”

“What could be worse than bullying?” I blurted – then grimaced. “ _Skator_ , that was dumb – of course there’s bad besides bullying – too much ale, dicing, cutpurses, those gaming knives... not that I know myself. Fíli’s told me.”

“All those, yah,” Barkhuzi agreed. “Except it’s arkhi instead of ale. Just stay out of the drinking tents, and you’ll stay clear of most of the bad. Don’t go along the drinking tents alone, either. But there are other things to mind. Kahgli won’t say a word about our tall horses or who rides them, so don’t you, either. We don’t want anyone to know what our stock is, or how many riders we have, until we line up to start. Else someone might take it into his or her head to get the two of you drunk, or failing that, knock your heads. Kahgli will watch out for both of you, anyway, because you’re both underage, and you’re Durin by birth, if Kahgli by contract. So you help us to help you – stick with Kahgli, even when you barter or visit the cook fires. There’s nothing seriously evil to watch out for, but that horse race is important, so every Wolf Rider has to keep his wits about him.”

As Barkhuzi spoke more about the festival, my excitement tempered only a bit. Once more I was reminded that Kahgli looked to me and Fíli and the rest of the Wolf Riders to represent them well. Still, I wasn’t about to drink any arkhi, and I wasn’t about to gamble away the furs I’d labored over. I was well used to keeping an eye out for trouble, too, so I should fare well. I’d make sure Fíli would, too, because I’d be at his left shoulder even when we bartered. So I hoped Kahgli wouldn’t have much trouble on our account.

The three of us labored to link the last of the ponies into line. The onetime Urghul ponies made up this string, and what an improvement their time with Kahgli had made! They were still thinner than Kahgli ponies, but their coats were bright and shining, and their eyes were clear and merry. They were tough little beasts, and would be good stock for long distance caravaneers, and also miners, whether as pack animals or tram pullers. Once this string was linked, we hurried back to help take down the family tent. Down came the Kahgli mast with all its fluttering banners, and up went the journey mast in its place. We returned the waves from the herders and hunters who would remain behind, and off the caravan went.

We reached Mulgrum’s tents an hour after dawn the next day. As glad calls of welcome rang out to greet us, I found the camp to be as familiar as Barkhuzi had assured me it would be – the canvas arrangement was only subtly different. With our arrival, ponies and folk from all four of Kahgli’s camps were in residence; despite the steady breeze, the air was a constant haze because of all the dirt stirred up from under the hooves of so many ponies and horses. How wise the steppe clans were to move their festival grounds so far out on the grass – Kahgli’s ponies alone were enough to noticeably mar the arid soil and fragile grass.

As we rode into camp, I noted the bundles of wool Barkhuzi had told us about. They must’ve arrived only shortly before us, because some were still aback their pack ponies; eager hands unloaded them for a night’s storage under canvas. Yes, there was Grummar from the village supervising the unloading - when he spotted us, he offered a vigorous wave of recognition and welcome. I nudged Fíli, and we sent a shout and a wave back to the old sire. Equally eager hands met our arrival to unpack our gear and help us settle. Then we joined the throng of folks working hard to get us on the path to the festival quickly, so that the ground around Ferrin’s camp wouldn’t be pounded and nibbled barren. We stayed only long enough for everyone to have a good night’s sleep and a couple of hearty meals, then off we went. I’m sure the grass was glad to see so many hooves trot away.

It took us four days to get to the festival grounds. We could’ve traveled much faster than we did, but everyone wanted to save the ponies so that they didn’t come to the market exhausted – at least, that’s what everyone said. It was easy to divine the real reason for our slow pace – folk wanted to save the ponies, horses, and dogs for the races, especially the tall horses. We had seven to run against Clan Festil’s infamous Maagratan and his mount – even our mad stallion Drunskaud was one of our Wolf Rider mounts, and if Merruli didn’t ride him himself, then his son, Barkhuzi, would, as they were the only ones skilled enough to handle the fey creature. I would likely ride Lathga, and Fíli would ride Orrud. If Barkhuzi didn’t ride Drunskaud, he’d ride Kulomar, our other black horse. We had high hopes that with so many Kahgli atop horses rather than ponies, we’d stand an excellent chance to win the coveted race.

Because our pace was so slow, all of Kahgli, from ponies and dogs to Dwarves, arrived at the festival grounds well rested and in good health. What a stir went up when sharp eyes spotted the dust that showed the big gathering before us! Our leisurely walk turned into an excited trot, and we splashed across the Lhûn with many a shout to urge our ponies and dogs across. We’d only just made the crossing when a delegation rode out from the festival grounds to meet us. After many joyous greetings between Derfrulia and her peers from other clans, we were escorted to the festival grounds with much calling and ululations. There must be several hundred steppe folk here, and even more ponies! Kahgli was one of the biggest clans, and so the space where we’d pitch our tents and pen our horses was spacious. I hadn’t expected the stock to be held within pens edged with stone and topped with briars, but it made sense – that’d save wear and tear on the grass, and be easy to guard against wolves. Derfrulia herself shouldered her way through the bustle to beckon to Fíli and me.

“Good, you’ve seen to your strings,” she nodded, as I led the last of our ponies into the pen. “Water and fodder are on the way, so you stay close to help get the canvas up. Once we’re settled, you can go with Barkhuzi and Klyn to see the rest of the grounds. You’ve been told not to wander too far alone at first, yes?”

“We have,” Fíli nodded at once. “We’ll wait for Khuzi and Klyn, and we’ll take Kulkro and Wyrskaud, too.”

“Good lads,” the horse maid gave us an approving look. “You know the reason for caution. That race is important.”

“We’ll be ready for it,” Fíli said firmly back. “We’ll do Kahgli proud.”

“You will, whether you take the first spot or not. So up with the canvas, lads, and then you can see the sights.”

“Yes, Derfrulia,” Fíli and I chorused, as the smiling horse maid gave us a wave. In another moment, she was deep in conversation with Ferrin, Mulgrum, Merruli, Yanna, and Ankulaz. The latter was no surprise – Kahgli’s matriarch had included the onetime Urghul heir among her counselors from the beginning. That eased and reassured with our newest folk, of course, but Fíli had revealed another reason for Derfrulia’s inclusion. Derfrulia’s lessons in governance were different from those that my brother and I learned from Uncle, but they were the right ones for governance on the grass. Maybe Ankulaz and his folk wouldn’t stay forever with Kahgli, so if he and his chose at some point to break off on their own, he’d be well ready to be a just leader.

Fíli and I put our backs into raising the canvas, and soon Yanna joined us with Klyn and Kulkro as we strained to get the main tent up. The mast festooned with banners was already flying, so we tugged and heaved and tied and stretched to get canvas over our heads. When we’d packed for the trip here, I’d thought it an awful expense of pack ponies and effort to lug sleeping cots with us, but the press of so many busy folk made the dust cloying and the sun’s heat oppressive. The chance for night breezes to waft under our cots would be wonderful, so yes, the effort to lug so much wood and rope and canvas framing was worth it. Cyth and Ilka arranged the hearth, we set frames, packs, and so forth inside the ring of canvas, up the canvas went over all, and on we went to the next one.

At last the tents were up! We had ten big ones, each one holding at least ten or twelve folk. For the first time, Fíli and I had cots more towards the back of the tent than the front, for Derfrulia had put several of the youngest newcomers in the family tent to keep an eye on them – Vazra and Taalmaak for two, and Kulkro and Wyrskaud for another two. Cyth was almost back to the wise, laughing dam we’d met when we first arrived, and she’d brought Vazra along so well that Ilka, Merruli, and Issi moved to head another tent. As a throng of us gathered between the tents, already Vazra stood with Cyth at the Kahgli communal hearth. Little Taalmaak rode in a swaddle on her back as she stoked the fires under pot and griddle, and both of them were full of smiles and happy laughter.

Oh, Valar, if the hearth were warming, then my friends and I would be sent off with water skins to fill, or antelope to hunt, and it’d be near nightfall before any of us got so much as a glance at the rest of the festival grounds! But no, Merruli and Ferrin passed by us with bows in hand, waving us on.

“Go have your look, lads and lasses,” Merruli laughed. “Today, we seasoned and steady warriors will bring the water and the meat.”

Ferrin grinned and made a most undignified snort at his brother’s teasing. I hadn’t spent much time around Yanna’s oldest uncle, so this was the first time I’d seen him so playful. Clearly, I wasn’t the only Dwarf excited about the festival. “I don’t know how seasoned or steady any Dwarf is at fall festival, Merr. But I grant you that some of us have a harder time than others to resist our curiosity about who’s got what to barter.”

“Oh, surely not that lot!” Merruli snorted, waving at us. “Go on with you! Stay together, and don’t bargain for the first three things you see. Take it all in first. That’s the way!”

We chorused our thanks and our assurances, then hastened off. We had Yanna, Barkhuzi, Klyn, Kulkro, and Wyrskaud with us, and of course our dogs. But the unexpected additions were Glorak and Varak, the two old sisters. Both of them remembered going to festival long ago as children, and were as eager as we younger folk to take in the sights. I couldn’t help but smile at the sisters’ bright eyes and excited murmurs.

As we went, Klyn slid between Kulkro and me to tell us all we were about to see. Just ahead, Barkhuzi did the same thing for Fíli and Wyrskaud, and ahead of them, Yanna did for Glorak and Varak. All of the steppe clans were here, each in its own place around an open central area – eh, that wasn’t exactly true. Urghul hadn’t been in force for many years, so their onetime spot had gradually been absorbed, leaving more room for the other clans. Next to Kahgli’s tents stood the mast for Clan Distin, renowned for their leatherwork, saddles, and rigging. Beyond them waved the mast for Clan Dashk, the breeders of herding dogs, and beside them was Clan Fentril, breeders of the tallest horses that had caused Kahgli so much dismay. Between Fentril and Kahgli was Clan Regha, breeders of wolfhounds.

Valar, there was so much to see just among the tents of the other clans, and we hadn’t even seen the market clearing yet! Distin had a pen full of huge steppe yaks, for those were their pack animals as well as the source of their raw materials for their leatherwork. Occasionally one or more of the shaggy red-haired beasts would bellow, though whether they were in favor of the bustle or not was anyone’s guess. Given the span of their horns, I was glad they seemed so placid. Fentril, surprisingly, had a herd of goats among their tall horses – Klyn said that the goats were the best companion animals for the sometimes-skittish stallions and mares.

“They must be placid milk goats, not wool goats like ours,” I snickered. “Our Dohi wouldn’t be a good companion to anyone or anything.”

“Oh, Mahal, no,” Wyrskaud groaned. “Calling him Kahgli’s idiot sire isn’t nearly fitting enough – he’s Melkor’s familiar if ever there was one.”

Our laughter was pained as well as sympathetic – the lad was a good herder and getting better, but for whatever reason the irascible Dohi had pulled up his tethers to chase him the first time the lad had drawn near. In truth, Dohi held no creature, whether Dwarf, dog, or pony, in high regard, so he hadn’t singled Wyrskaud out for any reason. Fortunately, Dohi saved his especial displeasure for wolves, and had gored several foolish enough to think he’d make a good meal. As he passed that particular dislike on to most of his offspring, we put up with him.

“Be glad you aren’t the one to help comb and shear that bit of fury,” Klyn consoled our new friend.

“I am! I’ll do six other goats before I’ll go near him!” Wyrskaud grimaced.

“No one thinks differently about that,” Yanna agreed above the general laughter.

We paced around the ring of clan tents twice, just because there was so much to see. A Regha sire had a pair of newborn wolfhound puppies in his hands, laughing in relief amid a crowd of his kinsmen because his prize bitch had successfully delivered five of the precious mites. I wondered when Mhornar or Rinnala would come into season, and if either would gift Kahgli with their puppies. How wondrous would that be? Clan Dashk would soon feel similar elation, because I spotted at least two very plump herding bitches waddling between their tents.

“All right, let’s see the market,” Yanna suggested, and with several exclamations of agreement for encouragement, we turned into the milling throng at the center of the clan tents.

Such a lot of folk, all crying their wares, dickering for bargains, laughing, and singing! This was far larger than the biggest market day in Thorin’s Hills, and was such a dizzying collection of sights that I needed some moments to decipher all before me. Klyn was quick to point out the drinking tents on one side of the circle, so we detoured around that area. I appreciated Merruli’s warning about not bargaining for the first three things I saw, because otherwise, I would’ve been sorely tempted by any number of things. Intricately woven belts finished in browns and greens and reds with both brass and silver fittings enticed on my left; beautifully tooled vambraces and fine boots beckoned on my right. A little farther on were stalls for various treats, spicy meat cakes and herbed honey bites among them. Here were saddle blankets woven of red yak hair, and there were beaten and shaped braid clasps, buckles, even earrings. And what was that just beyond? There sat a Dwarf getting a tattoo etched into his chest! It was a masterful design of a racing wolfhound surrounded by an intricate knotwork border. I could easily picture Master Dwalin seated just so, seemingly at his ease, while the needle artist etched arcane symbols over his bare pate.

Past the tattoo stand were blankets strewn with bowls upon bowls of beads in every color on Middle Earth. In the light, they sparkled like tiny gems, but when I asked about them, Yanna told me that they were glass, perfect for braiding into the delicate hair and beards of maids, and also for sewing onto clothing.

“I could get Maamr some of those,” I whispered to Fíli. “Some of the blue ones.”

Fíli gave me a startled look, then his face flushed red. I bit my lip – had I said something embarrassing? Oh, Valar, maybe the beads were courting gifts, and not something a lad bought for a present to his mother. In the midst of our friends, I couldn’t stammer an apology or ask for him to explain my gaffe to me. Maybe no one else had heard me –

Yanna turned towards me with a smile. “They would be a welcome gift to any maid or dam, Kíli. Fíli’s told me that your dam has blue eyes, and blue beads would be a pleasing match.”

If anything, Fíli went even redder, though why –

Oh and oh... my brother thought to give some of the beads to Yanna.

“Oh, good,” I ventured. “Um, I don’t know anything about hair beads for a lady, so maybe you could choose some for me? Fíli’s got her blue eyes, so he could help you match the colors...”

“Of course,” Yanna grinned. “We’ll see everything first, and then choose what we all want to barter for. Then we’ll come back with our barter goods, and Klyn, Khuzi, and I will help you make good bargains. And Fíli and I will help you choose the beads for your dam, Kíli.”

Fíli straightened, and his smile returned even wider than it had been before. “Course, Kíl. It’ll be my pleasure.”

Of course it would, because he’d stand next to Yanna for the doing. Hmm... maybe I should consider setting myself up as a matchmaker...

“That means we should get something for Uncle, too,” I said to cover my whimsy. “What do you think, Fíli? What would be a good gift for him?”

“Maybe he’d like some of your wolf furs,” Klyn suggested. “You’ve got some nice ones, both of you, and they wouldn’t be something he could get in any of your towns.”

“That’s a good idea,” both Fíli and Barkhuzi chorused, which was met with chuckles. Happily, I hadn’t embarrassed my brother or myself, and I’d done Fíli a good turn at the same time.

Of course I had. That was what a good second did.


End file.
